' 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 


By  FORRESTINE  C.  HOOKER 


A.  L.  BURT  COMPANY 
Publishers  New  York 

Published  by  arrangement  with  Alfred  A.  Knopf 


COPYRIGHT,  1920,  BY 
FORRESTINE  COOPER  HOOKER 


PRINTED    IN    THE    UNITED    STATICS    OF    AMERICA 


LOVINGLY  DEDICATED 

TO 

MY  FATHER, 

BRIGADIER-GENERAL  CHARLES  L.  COOPER,  U.  S.  A. 

MY  BROTHER,  MAJOR  HARRY  L.  COOPER,  U.  S.  A. 

AND 
MY  UNCLE,  CAPTAIN  LOUIS  R.  CHESTER.  U.  S.  N. 

OFFICERS  AND  GENTLEMEN. 
WITHOUT  FEAR  AND  WITHOUT  REPROACH 

F.  C.  H. 


75 


PABT  ONE 


CHAPTER  ONE 

"T^VERYTIIING  all  right,  Limber?"  asked  Allan 
|-J      Traynor,  boss  of  the  Diamond   II   ranch,  as  a 

J| J  cowboy  with  jingling  spurs  reined  his  pony  be- 
fore the  closed  gates  of  the  corral. 

Doctor  Powell,  standing  beside  Traynor,  scrutinized  the 
rider,  whose  broad-brimmed  Stetson,  caught  by  the  wind, 
fiapped  from  his  face,  exposing  the  sun-brown  skin,  firm 
chin  and  grey  eyes.  It  needed  no  student  of  psychology 
to  decide  that  Limber  was  not  a  man  who  would  flinch 
when  facing  a  six-shooter  held  by  a  rustler. 

The  cowboy  nodded  answer  to  Traynor 's  query.  Lim- 
ber's eyes  scanned  the  herd,  then,  satisfied,  he  leaned  across 
the  neck  of  his  pinto  pony,  and  said,  "Paddy  Lafferty 
wants  to  sell  out." 

"Who  told  you?"  Traynor  spoke  with  undisguised  sur- 
prise. 

"Dillon.  Paddy  tol'  him  he  was  gettin'  too  old,  that 
the  rheumatiz  is  botherin'  again,  an'  he's  goin'  to  quit 
because  he  won't  trust  no  one  to  run  his  herd  when  he 
can't  get  'round  to  it  hisself." 

"Did  Paddy  say  how  much  he  wanted?" 

"Nope,"  was  the  laconic  reply.  "I'll  find  out.  It's  a 
mighty  good  bunch  of  stuff.  Lots  of  three-year  steers,  an' 
thar  ain't  many  three-year-olds  left  in  these  parts,  now." 

"It's  worth  looking  up,"  commented  Traynor.  "I'm 
glad  you  spoke  of  it.  How  soon  will  you  be  ready  to  hit 
the  trail?" 

"  'Bout  ten  minutes." 

"Keep  the  boys  out  of  mischief  this  trip,  if  you  can." 

There  was  a  twinkle  in  Traynor 's  eyes  that  was  reflected 
in  the  grey  ones  of  the  cowboy,  who  said  soberly,  "I'll  do 

9 


10  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

my  best.  But  when  they  get  to  mixin'  in  things  they're 
slipperier  than  a  bunch  of  quicksilver.  You  think  you  got 
hold  of  it  and  you  find  you  ain't." 

Limber  turned  his  pony  toward  the  corrals,  twisting  in 
his  saddle  as  Traynor  called  after  him,  "Tell  some  one  to 
saddle  my  pony  and  Doctor  Powell's.  Well  ride  out  with 
you." 

As  the  cowboy  disappeared,  Traynor  s#id,  "It  will  give 
you  a  faint  idea  of  the  work.  You'll  find  it  mighty  dif- 
ferent from  the  cowpuncher's  life  of  moving  pictures." 

The  doctor  laughed.  "I  feel  like  a  small  boy  about  to 
wriggle  under  the  canvas  of  a  circus  tent.  I  never  dreamed 
that  Arizona  was  such  a  wonderland." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  swept  across  the  Sulphur 
Spring  Valley  that  undulated  twenty  miles  from  the  Gali- 
uro  Mountains  on  the  west  to  the  Grahams  on  the  east; 
starting  sixty  miles  north  of  the  Diamond  II  in  the  narrow 
Aravaipa  Canon,  it  gradually  broadened  into  a  great 
plain  that  terminated  at  the  Mexican  border. 

"Of  course,"  continued  the  doctor,  "I  had  a  vague  idea 
of  its  mineral  wealth  and  cattle  interests,  but  I  must  con- 
fess that  until  I  reached  here  the  name  of  Arizona  con- 
jured visions  of  burning  desert,  Gila  monsters,  rattlesnakes, 
horn-toads  and  Apaches.  Even  when  I  stepped  from  the 
train  and  met  you,  the  impression  of  a  'No-Man's  Land' 
was  strong  upon  me.  Yet  now  that  I  have  been  here  a 
month  I  feel  as  though  I  shall  never  want  to  leave  it." 

"You  can  make  sure  of  that,"  retorted  Traynor,  "if 
you  will  go  to  the  Hasayampa  River,  kneel  on  the  brink 
and  drink  of  the  water.  You  must  be  very  careful,  though, 
to  kneel  above  the  crossing.  This  will  keep  you  from  ever 
wishing  to  leave  Arizona  and  you  will  receive  the  gift  of 
absolute  truthfulness;  but,  should  you  drink  while  kneel- 
ing below  the  crossing,  truth  and  you  will  be  divorced  the 
balance  of  your  life." 

"Did  you  drink  below  the  crossing  or  above?"  chal- 
lenged the  doctor  with  an  amused  smile. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  11 

11  There  is  only  one  case  on  record  where  a  man  acknowl- 
edged that  he  drank  the  water  below  the  crossing.  His 
name  was  Ilasayampa  Bill.  He  died  a  year  ago.  Hasa- 
yampa  Bill  was  a  victim  of  circumstances,  not  intention. 
He  said  that  he  was  drinking  above  the  crossing  when 
he  lost  his  balance  and  fell  into  the  stream  which  carried 
him  far  below.  Though  Ilasayampa  swore  solemnly  that 
he  kept  his  mouth  shut — for  the  first  time  on  record — his 
reputation  was  thoroughly  established.  A  letter  addressed 
to  the  'Biggest  Liar  in  Arizona'  was  accorded  him  by  popu- 
lar vote." 

The  doctor  was  about  to  reply,  when  the  air  was  filled 
with  ear-splitting  whistles  and  staccato  cries.  Then  the 
big  gates  of  the  corral  swung  open,  and  an  avalanche  of 
cattle  tumbled  madly  through  and  headed  in  a  wild  rush 
down  the  road  that  led  south  toward  Willcox — excited  bel- 
lows and  plaintive  lowing  of  calves  seeking  their  mothers, 
mingled  with  the  voices  of  invisible  men,  completely  obliter- 
ated by  the  clouds  of  alkali  dust. 

Traynor  led  the  way  into  the  stable  where  two  saddled 
ponies  twisted  nervously.  The  men  looked  at  each  other 
and  smiled  as  the  doctor  approached  the  pinto  pony.  Its 
eyes  showed  whites,  its  ears  went  back.  It  sheered 
nervously,  but  Powell  gained  the  saddle  and,  with  Traynor 
close  beside  him,  they  reached  the  moving  herd. 

Through  the  haze  of  dust  a  shadowy  rider  would  loom 
momentarily,  then  disappear.  Traynor  rode  on  the  outer 
edge  of  the  herd.  Doctor  Powell  became  aware  that  Lim- 
ber had  materialized  at  his  side,  and  forgot  everything  else 
in  his  admiration  of  the  cowpuncher's  unconscious  grace 
as  his  lithe,  swaying  figure  adjusted  itself  to  each  move- 
ment of  the  wiry,  dancing  pony. 

"Head  off  that  buckskin,"  shouted  Limber,  rising  in  his 
stirrups  and  waving  his  quirt  at  a  cow  that  was  making 
a  wild  dash  for  freedom. 

Bronco's  pony  emerged  from  the  haze  and  tore  madly 
after  the  cow,  reaching  her  side  just  as  she  made  up  her 


12  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

bovine  mind  that  she  had  no  intention  of  deserting.  Her 
expression  of  injured  innocence  as  she  ambled  quietly  back 
roused  Doctor  Powell's  mirth  and  Bronco's  ire. 

The  cowpuncher  reined  his  pony  beside  Powell's,  mut- 
tering imprecations  that  finally  ended  in  a  verbal  explo- 
sion. 

"Durn  her!  Whenever  you  turn  an  old  buckskin  cow 
like  that  loose  in  the  herd  it's  as  bad  as  sickin'  a  mother- 
in-law  on  a  happy  family.  She  won't  rest  till  she  gets 
'em  millin'  and  stampedes  everything  in  sight,  and  then 
she  picks  up  her  knittin'  and  looks  innercent  and  says  she 
never  allowed  to  start  notion*  noways!  Gee!  I  wish  I 
could  strike  a  ranch  where  there  warn't  nothin'  but  steers. 
The  minute  you  mix  up  with  a  female  critter,  cow  or  pet- 
ticoats, you're  roundin'  up  trouble  for  yourself  and  lots 
of  others." 

He  paused  long  enough  to  jerk  out  a  sack  of  tobacco 
and  cigarette  papers,  letting  the  reins  fall  on  his  pony's 
neck  as  he  glared  at  the  cow.  She  was  slowly  dropping  to 
the  rear  of  the  herd,  but  Bronco  and  his  pony  did  not  relax 
their  vigilance. 

"Mebbe  you  thought  I  didn't  know  you,  you  old  buck- 
skin  bag  o'  bones,"  apostrophized  Bronco.  "I'd  know 
that  derned  twisted  horn  if  I  was  dead  twenty  years!" 

Holy  Dick  galloped  up,  grining  broadly. 

"Hello,  Bronc!     Ain't  that  your  ol'  buckskin  friend?" 

Bronco  snorted.  "Yep!  An'  you  bet  she's  goin'  to 
keep  movin'  until  she's  loaded  in  the  car  and  headed  for 
trouble  somewhar  else.  Arizona  ain't  big  enough  to  hold 
her  an'  me. " 

Holy  rode  off,  turning  in  his  saddle  and  screaming  in  a 
shrill  nasal  whine  that  he  fondly  imagined  was  singing: 

"  'Tis  ye-a-a-rs  since  las-s-s-st  we-e-ee  met 
An'  we  ma-a-aa-ay  not  me-ee-et  agin. 
1  stru-ug-gle  to-o-oo  forgit 
But  I  stru-ug-g-g-gg-g-11-l-ll-le  aa-aal  in  va-aa-a-in." 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  13 

Holy's  pony  contributed  to  the  tremolo  effect  by  its 
tfnort,  nervous  trot. 

"I'm  glad  she's  a  gittin'  offen  the  range,"  soliloquized 
Bronco,  "but  I'll  always  be  sorry  we  didn't  butcher  her  on 
the  ranch  so's  I  could  help  chaw  her  up.  If  ever  I  get  to 
Heaven  all  I'll  ask  is  to  eat  buckskin  cows  for  everlastin'." 

As  he  uttered  the  last  words  Bronco  raced  ahead,  leav- 
ing Doctor  Powell  at  liberty  to  laugh  and  wonder  what 
the  mystery  of  the  buckskin  hoodoo  might  be.  Then  his 
eyes  wandered  from  the  dust-cloud  ahead  of  him  to  the 
purple-blue  peaks  that  reached  thousands  of  feet  upward 
as  if  striving  to  pierce  the  brilliant  sky;  across  the  valley, 
clumps  of  greyish  brown  saccaton  grass,  slender  tufts  of 
waving  gietta  interspersed  by  tall  spikes  of  Spanish  Dag- 
ger formed  a  typical  Arizona  landscape. 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  it?"  asked  Traynor,  riding 
up  to  him. 

Powell's  eyes  sparkled  with  enthusiasm.  "It's  a  won- 
derful country!  How  far  away  is  Hasayampa  River? 
I'm  ready  to  start  now  for  that  drink!" 

They  laughed  together  as  their  ponies'  heads  were 
reined  toward  the  ranch,  but  Powell  could  not  resist  a 
backward  glance  at  the  herd  which  had  now  settled  down 
1  o  a  steady  amble.  The  sunlight  filtering  through  the  dust 
formed  a  golden  mist  in  which  the  cowpunchers  and  their 
ponies  were  dimly  silhouetted. 

"Of  course  there  are  annoyances,  unpleasant  people  to 
encounter  at  times,  bad  seasons  to  offset  the  good  ones," — 
Traynor  deftly  rolled  a  cigarette  with  his  right  hand  as 
he  spoke,  his  left  resting  lightly  on  the  high  pommel  of 
his  saddle.  "Taking  it  all  in  all,  though,  when  I  ride 
across  the  valley  or  reach  a  high  peak  and  look  down 
where  thousands  of  cattle  graze  undisturbed  by  the  in- 
roads of  civilization,  I  feel  it  is  a  royal  heritage.  Do  you 
think  I  would  barter  it,  like  Esau,  even  though  my  menu 
might  read,  'Pottage  a  la  champagne  and  truffles'?" 


14  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Is  the  role  of  Prodigal  Son  necessary  to  qualify  for  a 
fatted  calf  in  Arizona?"  queried  Powell.  "I'm  as  hun- 
gry as  the  proverbial  bear.  Oh,  that  reminds  me.  Bronco 
was  bewailing  the  fact  that  a  certain  buckskin  cow  had  not 
been  butchered  at  the  ranch.  He  seems  a  bit  sensitive 
regarding  buckskins.     What's  the  trouble?" 

Traynor's  mouth  twitched  as  he  answered,  "Ask  him. 
It's  too  good  a  story  for  any  one  else  to  spoil  in  the  telling." 

They  reached  the  stables  and  left  the  ponies  with  the 
Mexican  stableman.  As  they  entered  the  large  court-yard 
which  formed  the  center  of  the  house,  they  were  greeted 
by  the  welcome  sound  of  the  lunch  bell  and  Pong,  in  im- 
maculate white  and  with  neatly  coiled  queue,  smiled 
amiably  from  the  dining  room  door. 

After  lunch  the  two  men  sat  smoking  and  chatting  in  the 
deep  porch  between  the  dining  room  and  living  room, 
where  easy  chairs,  a  hammock,  a  table  littered  with  news- 
papers and  magazines,  tempted  one  to  loiter.  The  stable 
boy  interrupted  them,  speaking  in  Mexican,  and  Traynor 
explained  that  there  was  some  trouble  with  the  acetelyn 
plant. 

"I  always  take  care  of  that  myself,  and  unless  I  do  so 
we  will  have  to  resort  to  coal-oil  lamps.  I'll  be  back 
shortly.     Make  yourself  comfortable. ' ' 

Powell  leaned  back  lazily  in  his  chair,  trying  to  reconcile 
Traynor  who  had  just  spoken  with  the  Traynor  he  once 
knew ;  a  young  chap  fresh  from  college,  unlucky  enough  to 
lose  his  last  remaining  relative  at  the  same  time  he  inher- 
ited a  fairly  good-sized  fortune. 

It  had  been  the  usual  story  of  "wild  oats."  Then  Tray- 
nor's revulsion  had  been  complete,  though  not  in  time  to 
avoid  a  quarrel  with  the  girl  to  whom  he  was  engaged. 
Exaggerated  stories  of  various  episodes,  exploited  by  a 
Sunday  paper,  caused  her  to  return  his  ring  and  refuse 
absolutely  to  see  him  or  listen  to  his  explanations. 

Traynor  thrashed  the  reporter,  paid  a  heavy  fine  for 
that  privilege  and  started  on  a  trip  West  with  no  definite 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  15 

idea  except  to  get  as  far  as  possible  from  a  place  filled 
with  bitter  memories. 

During  the  journey  he  met  a  young  army  officer  re- 
turning from  leave  of  absence,  and  the  lieutenant's  invi- 
tation to  visit  Fort  Grant  had  been  accepted  by  Traynor. 
Some  months  later  Traynor,  disposing  of  all  his  Eastern 
interests,  had  purchased  the  Diamond  H  ranch,  the  owner 
of  which  had  recently  died. 

In  the  seven  years  after  this  purchase,  Cuthbert  Powell 
was  the  only  one  of  Traynor 's  former  acquaintances  who 
ever  heard  from  the  young  rancher.  Powell  had  promised 
to  visit  the  ranch,  but  not  until  now  had  that  promise 
been  fulfilled.  It  was  not  easy  to  recognize  the  tanned, 
alert  chap  who  grasped  his  hands  as  he  alighted  from  the 
Pullman.  As  days  went  by,  it  was  a  constant  source  of 
surprise  to  the  doctor  to  note  that  the  mental  change  in 
his  friend  was  more  marked  than  the  physical.  It  was  as 
though  the  breadth  and  strength'  of  the  country  had  been 
absorbed  by  the  owner  of  the  4<  Diamond  H.M 

Traynor  returned  and  slipped  into  the  chair  he  had 
vacated. 

"You  see,  on  a  ranch  one  becomes  blacksmith,  veterin- 
arian, doctor,  cowpuncher,  carpenter,  farmer — .  In  fact, 
a  veritable  jack  of  all  trades.  No  one  cares  what  your 
family  is,  how  much  money  you  own  or  what  your  social 
status  elsewhere,  past,  present  or  future,  may  be.  It  is 
yourself  that  is  judged.  There  is  no  court  of  appeal  if  you 
are  condemned.  You've  got  to  look  a  man  in  the  eyes, 
grip  his  hand  as  a  comrade,  shoot  as  quickly  as  the  other 
chap,  roll  in  your  blanket  and  take  any  weather  that  comes, 
without  growling.  If  you  can  do  these  things  the  life 
will  suit  you  and  the  vastness  of  the  place  sinks  into  your 
soul.     It  mends  one's  broken  faith  in  humanity." 

Powell,  watching  his  friend,  saw  the  lines  about  his 
mouth  harden  and  knew  that  the  memory  of  the  past  was 
burning  like  a  corroding  acid.  Then  the  mood  passed  and 
Traynor  turned  with  a  half-smile. 


16  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Well,  what  do  you  think  of  your  first  experience  as  a 
cowhand  ?" 

"I'm  thankful  that  I  knew  how  to  ride  before  I  came 
here,"  laughed  Powell.  "That  was  rather  a  gay  little  nag 
I  had  this  morning." 

"That  animal's  name  is  Hot  Tamale.  The  boys  wanted 
to  try  you  out  a  bit.  I  knew  you  could  take  care  of  your- 
self, so  did  not  say  anything.  The  joke  is  on  them  now; 
but  you  have  won  their  respect  and  will  be  free  from 
other  pranks." 

"I  think  I'll  insist  on  riding  Hot  Tamale  hereafter," 
asserted  Powell.  "By  the  way,  when  Limber  spoke  to  you 
about  that  bunch  of  cattle,  I  thought  I  would  like  to  buy 
them,  provided  you,  yourself,  did  not  intend  to  do  so.  Of 
course,  I  realize  that  I  am  a  tenderfoot,  ignorant  of  the 
first  rudiments  of  the  cattle  business,  but  what  would  you 
advise  about  my  locating  in  this  section?" 

"It  would  be  a  good  move,"  responded  Traynor. 
"Paddy's  range  lies  between  my  own  and  the  Hot  Springs 
country  across  the  Galiuros.  He  has  permanent  water, 
which  is  a  gold  mine,  especially  during  a  dry  season.  The 
mountains  between  here  and  Hot  Springs  are  rich  in  feed, 
so  Paddy's  cattle  work  that  way."  He  puffed  silently  on 
his  cigar  for  a  few  seconds,  then  turned  suddenly  to 
Powell.  "Look  here,  Cuthbert,  if  you  are  really  serious 
about  locating  in  this  section,  why  don't  you  get  in  touch 
with  Doctor  King  who  owns  the  Hot  Springs  ?  The  place 
would  interest  you  professionally,  for  the  water  comes  out 
of  solid  rock  at  a  temperature  of  140  degrees  and  is  the 
purest  water  I  have  ever  tasted.  It  is  noted  in  the  Ter- 
ritory as  a  cure  for  various  complaints." 

"I  would  certainly  like  to  see  it,"  answered  the  doctor 
enthusiastically,  "if  you  can  arrange  it  for  me." 

"King  only  held  Squatter's  Right  until  recently.  Un- 
der that,  the  possessor  loses  title  unless  he  stays  on  the 
ground.  It  is  not  under  government  survey  yet,  so  could 
not  be  patented  like  surveyed  land.     I  advised  King  to 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  17 

patent  it  under  Indian  Script  and  make  his  title  secure. 
He  has  just  done  this.  King  has  been  hoping  to  erect  a 
sanitarium  at  the  Springs,  but  lack  of  funds,  and  his  flat 
refusal  to  consider  anyone  as  a  partner  except  a  resident 
physician  able  to  finance  the  plans,  has  blocked  his  scheme.' ' 

"It  might  appeal  to  him  to  let  me  carry  out  my  own 
idea  of  establishing  a  sanitarium  for  tubercular  children 
in  Arizona.  I  don't  mean  wealthy  invalids,  attended  by  a 
retinue  of  nurses  and  other  impedimenta,  but  poor  children 
who  otherwise  would  have  no  hope  of  health.  The  climate, 
altitude  and  all  conditions  would  be  simply  ideal.  I 
should  like  to  talk  to  him  myself." 

"Do  you  know  that  you  are  setting  forth  the  very  ideas 
that  King  discussed  with  me  the  last  time  I  saw  him?  That 
was,  a  place  for  poor,  tubercular  children.  He  loves  every 
child  that  he  sees.  His  own  boy  died  at  the  age  of  six. 
The  mother  died  soon  after.  King  gave  me  no  details, 
and  I  doubt  whether  anyone  else  besides  myself,  knows 
this  much.  I  fancy  his  thought  was  to  make  the  place  a 
memorial  to  the  boy  he  lost. ' ' 

"It  would  be  a  splendid  idea  to  carry  out  with  such  a 
man!"  exclaimed  Powell,  deeply  moved.  "How  soon  do 
you  think  it  could  be  arranged  for  me  to  meet  him?" 

"It's  a  waste  of  time  to  write.  No  one  but  King  and  a 
family  named  Glendon  live  in  that  section.  Mail  lies  at 
the  Willcox  post-office  until  one  or  the  other  happens  to 
be  in  town.  It's  thirty-five  miles  from  AVillcox  to  Hot 
Springs,  and  twenty-four  across  the  Galiuro  trail  from 
here.  "When  Limber  gets  back,  you  and  he  could  ride  over 
the  mountains,  have  a  look  at  the  Springs  and  talk  it  over 
with  Doctor  King.  I  feel  very  confident  that  you  might 
join  forces." 

"Fine!"  ejaculated  Powell.  "Now,  what  about  that 
cattle  deal?" 

"You  are  determined  to  'jump  in  with  both  feet'  as  the 
boys  would  say,"  laughed  Traynor.  "However,  it  would 
be  wise  to  take  that  matter  up  as  soon  as  possible.     Paddy 


18  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

is  a  queer  character,  so  you  had  better  stay  out  of  the  deal 
until  I  get  it  arranged  with  him.  If  you  make  the  buy  and 
at  any  time  wish  to  sell  out,  I  will  take  the  herd  and 
ranch  at  the  same  price  you  pay  for  it,  so  you  will  not  run 
any  risk  of  being  tied  up  here  if  you  wish  to  leave. " 

"I  asked  you  to  tell  me  how  far  it  is  to  the  Hasayampa 
Kiver?"  reminded  the  doctor.  "Even  if  I  do  not  indulge 
in  a  drink  from  that  historic  stream,  I  am  here  to  stay. ' ' 

"You'll  make  good,"  asserted  Traynor,  heartily.  "The 
man  who  is  a  real  man  wins  out  here  in  the  end,  if  he  lets 
whiskey  and  cards  alone.  Living  on  ranches,  miles  away 
from  civilization,  one  does  not  have  the  problem  of  women. 
'Cherchez  la  femme'  does  not  apply  to  this  section  of  the 
country,  thank  the  good  Lord!  That's  why  this  place 
appealed  most  strongly  to  me.  Unless  I  go  to  Willcox  I 
can  forget  there  is  such  a  creature  as  woman  in  the  uni- 
verse. ' ' 

"All  women  are  not  the  same,  Allan,"  protested  Powell, 
placing  his  hand  on  Traynor 's  arm  and  looking  at  him 
earnestly.  "I  hope  the  right  one  will  come  into  your  life 
some  day.  One  who  can  appreciate  you  as  you  deserve, 
and  who  will  be  big  enough  and  fine  enough  to  be  a  wife 
in  the  best  sense  of  the  word.  Why,  man !  Think  of  the 
pride  and  pleasure  you  would  have  in  this  place,  knowing 
that  it  was  the  heritage  of  your  son!" 

Traynor  rose  hastily,  turned  abruptly  from  his  friend 
and  stood  staring  through  the  open  door  of  the  porch 
across  the  wide  pastures.  His  face  was  white  when  he 
confronted  Powell. 

"What  would  you  do  if  you  found  that  the  patient  upon 
whom  you  are  operating  has  not  succumbed  to  the  anaes- 
thetic, Cuthbert?     Cut  without  pity?" 

"Yes,"  answered  Powell,  "if  it  meant  life  or  death  to 
waver  or  hesitate  a  second." 

"I  thought  I  was  numb;  that  it  would  not  hurt  any 
more ;  but  when  you  spoke  of — a  son — it  cut  into  my  heart. 
I've  tried  to  forget — it's  like  burying  something  that  is 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  19 

alive.  In  the  night  I  hear  its  voice;  I  see  its  shadow  even 
in  the  darkness." 

He  rose  and  moved  restlessly;  his  face  white.  "No  one 
knows  what  it  meant  to  give  her  up.  She  believed  those 
damned  reports  and  gave  me  no  chance  to  prove  the  truth, 
and  I — ,  why — it  would  not  have  mattered  of  what  she 
was  accused;  the  blackest  charges  proved  against  her, — I 
would  have  held  her  and  fought  the  world  for  her,  inno- 
cent or  guilty.  I  believed  she  loved  me  as  I  loved  her — 
she  refused  to  hear  my  story. ' ' 

"Did  she  never  know  the  truth?"  asked  Powell. 

"Returned  my  ring,  asked  me  to  spare  her  the  humilia- 
tion of  talking  to  me.  Yet,  after  I  came  here,  I  wrote 
telling  her  that  the  man  in  my  automobile  with  that 
woman,  was  not  myself.  You  remember  the  newspapers 
spared  the  woman's  name.  She  had  a  husband  and  child — 
eloping  with  that  cad,  Brunton.  Cheap  machine  broke 
down  at  two  o'clock  in  the  night.  I  recognized  them. 
Put  'em  in  my  machine  and  told  her  to  get  back  home 
before  it  was  too  late.  Oh,  she  was  ready  enough  then 
to  be  decent.  Brunton  took  her  to  her  door,  then  he  went 
to  his  place,  but  that  fool  reporter  saw  the  number  of  the 
machine,  and  wrote  the  story.  You  kuow  it.  Woman's 
name  kept  out,  my  name  not  mentioned  outright,  but  de- 
scription sufficient  to  identify  me  beyond  doubt.  Couldn't 
sue  the  paper,  my  lawyer  said,  and  Brunton  lit  out  for 
Europe.     Rotten  mess  all  around. 

"I  wrote  the  full  truth  to  Nell,  begged  a  word  from  her 
as  a  man  dying  of  thirst  begs  for  a  drop  of  water.  She 
never  answered  the  letter.  A  year  later  I  wrote  again, 
and  that  one  was  returned  unclaimed." 

"You  say  that  the  second  letter  came  back  unclaimed," 
spoke  Powell,  "but,  you  have  no  proof  that  the  first  one 
ever  reached  her.     Had  you  thought  of  that?" 

"Yes.  Both  letters  had  my  Arizona  address  on  the  en- 
velope as  well  as  inside.  When  I  did  not  hear  in  reply 
to  the  first  letter,  and  it  was  not  returned  to  me,  I  com- 


20  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

municated  with  the  Dead  Letter  Office,  but  no  such  letter 
had  been  turned  over  to  that  department.  The  only  logical 
conclusion  was  that  she  did  not  wish  to  answer." 

The  doctor  made  no  comment.  Traynor's  reasoning  was 
too  convincing  for  suggestions. 

"Yet,  I  made  a  second  effort,"  went  on  the  boss  of  the 
Diamond  H.  "After  that,  there  was  nothing  more  to  do 
but  accept  the  situation.  Now  you  know  the  truth,  Cuth- 
bert.  No  other  woman  will  ever  fill  her  place  in  my  life, — 
but,  I  cannot  keep  her  out  of  my  thoughts,  day  or  night." 

"I'm  sorry  I  spoke,  old  man,"  answered  the  doctor. 

"I'm  glad  you  did,"  replied  Traynor.  "Now,  you  un- 
derstand." 

As  the  shadows  lengthened  on  the  prairie  the  two  friends 
smoked  and  spoke  of  other  things.  And  yet — both  Traynor 
and  Powell — and  many  another — had  read  with  the  care- 
less glance  of  the  unscathed,  the  account  of  a  train  wreck 
in  Kansas,  in  which  the  loss  of  life  had  been  appalling, 
and  the  loss  of  mail  had  not  been  mentioned. 


CHAPTER  TWO 

THE  cattle  that  Powell  and  Traynor  had  watched 
starting  from  the  Diamond  H,  constituted  the  first 
shipment  of  the  season,  contracted  to  an  Eastern 
buyer.  Official  inspection  by  the  Live  Stock  Sanitary 
Board  was  exacted,  not  only  regarding  the  health  of 
shipped  cattle,  but  also  to  protect  cattlemen  from  rustlers 
on  the  miles  of  open  range. 

After  reaching  Willcox,  the  boys  of  the  Diamond  II  drove 
the  herd  into  the  shipping  pens  beside  the  railroad  track, 
locked  the  gates  and  turned  with  joyous  expectation  to- 
ward the  main  street  of  town.  Limber  parted  from  the 
ethers  a  short  distance  from  the  corrals. 

"I'll  tell  the  inspector  we'll  be  ready  tomorrow  mornin' 
soon  as  the  cars  get  in,"  he  said,  and  without  waiting  re- 
ply rode  toward  the  part  of  town  where  the  more  pre- 
tentious houses  were  bunched. 

Like  schoolboys  out  for  a  holiday,  Bronco,  Holy  and 
Roarer  raced  their  ponies  to  the  Cowboys'  Rest  Corral. 
Here  they  were  greeted  vociferously  by  Buckboard  Bill,  who 
had  retired  from  driving  a  skeleton  stage  and  established 
the  only  place  where  horses  or  vehicles  might  be  hired. 

A  few  minutes  elapsed  before  the  three  cowpunchers, 
afoot,  made  their  way  along  the  street.  Ponies  standing 
with  dangling  reins  and  hoofs  buried  fetlock  deep  in  the 
fine,  white  alkali  sand  in  front  of  the  stores,  told  that 
many  other  cowpunchers  from  other  ranches  were  in  town. 
The  Diamond  H  boys  quickly  identified  the  owner  of  each 
pony  by  its  brand. 

A  row  of  irregular  buildings,  consisting  of  three  stores, 
a  Chinese  restaurant,  several  saloons  and  a  hotel,  formed 
the  principal  street  of  Willcox.     Facing  the  stores  across 

21 


22  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

the  dusty  expanse,  lay  the  Southern  Pacific  depot  which  was 
the  heart  of  the  town,  while  radiating  from  it  east  and 
west,  like  great  arteries,  ran  the  steel  tracks  of  the  rail- 
road. Pack  burros,  loaded  with  miners'  supplies,  shuf- 
fled out  on  the  road  to  Dos  Cabezas.  Many  of  these  tiny 
animals  were  animated  woodpiles — only  legs  and  wagging 
ears  visible  from  beneath  a  canopy  of  split  wood  destined 
for  a  camp  where  fuel  was  not  procurable,  otherwise.  The 
only  break  in  the  grey  monotone  of  the  landscape  was  the 
few  cottonwood  trees,  planted  by  optimistic  souls  around 
their  dwelling  places. 

It  was  a  typical  frontier  town  of  three  hundred  people, 
two-thirds  of  whom  were  Mexicans  speaking  no  English. 
If,  by  chance,  a  stranger  alighted  from  the  "  passenger " 
train,  the  arrival  of  which  was  the  most  important  event 
of  each  day,  the  town,  like  a  naughty  child  with  dirty 
face  and  torn  clothes,  looked  the  new-comer  over  critically. 
If  he  met  the  inspection  squarely,  it  held  out  a  friendly 
hand,  and  as  long  as  he  "played  fair"  that  hand  was 
ready  to  fight  for  him  and  his. 

The  boys  from  the  Diamond  H  sauntered  leisurely  along 
the  street,  exchanging  greetings  with  those  they  knew, 
until,  under  their  usual  pretext  of  expecting  mail,  they 
reached  the  combination  store  and  post-office.  It  was  an 
important  duty  to  ascertain  beyond  doubt  whether  any 
letters  were  waiting  to  be  claimed  by  Peter  N.  Hewland, 
Dick  Reynolds  and  Henry  Jackson,  who  were  thus  able  to 
keep  their  legal  identification.  At  all  other  times  they 
were  known  as  Bronco  Pete,  Holy  Dick,  whose  vocabulary 
of  cuss-words  held  the  Arizona  record,  and  Hell-roarer 
Jack,  with  a  gentle  falsetto  voice  which  under  stress  of 
emotion  became  a  tiny  squeak.  Convenience  had  cur- 
tailed these  names  to  Bronc,  Holy  and  Roarer. 

Having  digested  the  information  that  no  mail  awaited 
them,  they  entered  into  conversation.  One  could  learn 
the  news  of  territory,  county  and  nation  in  the  post-office, 
besides  ascertaining  what  outfits  were  in  town.     Additional 


a: 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  23 

attractions  were  found  in  the  posters  to  be  read,  notices 
of  round-up  work,  advertisements  of  stolen  horses  or  stray 
cattle. 

It  was  while  browsing  on  such  literature  that  Bronco 
halted  with  mouth  half-open  and  disbelieving  eyes.  He 
read  the  hand-written  notice  deliberately  to  the  end  twice 
before  he  turned  to  where  Roarer  and  Holy  were  inspect- 
ing silver-mounted  spurs — which  they  did  not  need,  but 
intended  to  buy  because  they  had  to  spend  their  money 
someway. 

"Say,  boys,  thar's  goin'  to  be  a  ice-cream  festival  to- 
night!" 

"Shucks!"  squeaked  Roarer.  "Try  something  else, 
Bronc.  You  all  know  that  thar  ain't  no  ice  any  nearer 
than  Tucson.  And  nobody's  fool  enough  to  send  ninety 
miles  and  pay  cut-throat  rates  for  ice  just  to  make  ice- 
cream, except  a  regular  ijit." 

The  grin  on  Roarer's  face  and  the  faces  of  other  by- 
standers recalled  Bronco's  exploit  of  ordering  ice  from 
Tucson,  and  reaching  the  Diamond  H  with  nothing  but  a 
wet  blanket  in  the  wagon. 

Succumbing  to  the  alluring  display  in  a  mail  order  cata- 
logue, Bronco  had  bought  an  ice-cream  freezer,  declaring 
he  was  going  to  get  filled  up  on  that  delicacy  for  once  in 
his  life — if  it  took  three  months'  pay.  The  episode  became 
historic,  and  the  freezer  kindling  wood. 

If  you  don't  believe  me,"  challenged  Bronco,  "come 
nd  see  for  yourself!     What's  more,  it  says  here,  it's  goin' 
to  be  free  with  cake  throwed  in,"  he  finished  triumphantly. 

Holy  edged  beside  Bronco  and  peered  over  his  shoulder. 
"Perned  if  it  ain't  so,"  he  acknowledged  at  last.  "But, 
mebbe  that  air  paper's  lyin'." 

"What  do  you  think  of  that?"  ruminated  Bronco,  his 
mouth  watering  in  anticipation.  "Ice-scream — and  cake 
throwed  in  free  gratis  for  nothin'.  Looks  like  some  one's 
struck  it  rich — turnin'  all  that  loose  on  the  range  for 
everybody  to  corral." 


24  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"I  don't  believe  it,"  gloomily  asserted  Holy,  who  had 
acted  as  escort  for  Bronco  and  the  ice  that  failed.  "You 
can't  get  ice  from  Tucson  so's  thar'd  be  anything  left  un- 
less you  order  a  whole  carload  at  onct." 

"Well,"  retorted  Bronco  in  self-defence,  "it  depends  on 
who's  cartin'  the  ice.  You  would  keep  on  cussin'  all  the 
way  to  the  ranch  that  time,  Holy,  an  it's  no  wonder  the 
ice  was  all  melted  up.  But,  this  yer  ice  is  goin'  to  be 
in  the  church  and  won't  have  its  constitution  tried  so 
hard." 

Holy  and  Roarer  looked  at  each  other  uncertainly. 
They  hungered  for  that  ice-cream  and  cake ;  but  the  neces- 
sity of  treading  consecrated  board  floors  made  the  matter 
serious. 

"I  wonder  if  you've  got  to  have  'em  deal  you  a  ticket 
if  you  don't  belong  in  the  pasture?"  speculated  Bronco, 
unable  to  tear  himself  from  the  vicinity  of  the  poster. 
"Say,  Larry,"  he  called  to  the  store-keeper,  "how  about 
this  here  ice-scream  layout?  Is  it  a  bluff,  or  sure  enough 
free-for-all?" 

* '  Sure  enough, ' '  answered  Larry.  ' '  There 's  a  new  min- 
ister come  to  town  and  the  women-folks  have  pitched  in 
and  fixed  this  up  so  he  can  get  acquainted  with  people. 
You  boys  had  better  take  it  in.  Every  one's  going  to  be 
there.  We're  shutting  up  the  stores  at  seven  o'clock  to- 
night, so  everybody  can  go." 

"Say,  Larry,  did  they  sure  enough  get  the  ice  here  all 
right?"  questioned  Holy  doubtfully. 

"They  sure  did!  And  that  ice-cream  and  cake  is  way 
up  in  G.  Home-made,  every  bit  of  it.  What's  more,  the 
ladies  went  to  the  saloon-keepers  and  got  them  all  to  prom- 
ise to  shut  up  the  saloons  from  seven  till  eleven  tonight. 
So  every  one's  got  to  go  to  the  Festival  or  else  go  home  to 
bed." 

"I  guess  we're  headed  for  the  ice-scream,  boys;"  an- 
nounced Bronco,  and  the  others  nodded  acquiescence. 

They  filed  out  of  the  store  and,  after  registering  on  the 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  25 

empty  page  of  the  hotel  book,  received  a  key  and  mounted 
the  protesting  stairs  that  ascended  outside  the  hotel  to  the 
upper  rooms. 

"While  they  were  engaged  in  splashing  soapy  \t»ater  over 
faces  and  hands,  brushing  dusty  coats  and  plastering  down 
anarchistic  locks,  Limber  joined  them  and  was  informed 
of  the  evening  plans. 

"Well,  I'll  see  you  over  there,"  he  promised.  "I'm 
goin'  to  supper  now.  Then  I've  got  to  have  a  talk  with 
Paddy  Lafferty  and  find  out  what  he's  holdin'  his  herd 
at." 

He  reached  the  door,  paused  and  looked  back  quizzically. 
"I  reckon  you  boys  '11  be  all  right  tonight,  seein'  as  how 
you'll  all  be  in  church.     So  long." 

After  supper  the  three  cowboys  joined  a  stream  of  peo- 
ple moving  toward  the  church,  where  open  doors  emitted 
rays  of  welcoming  light.  It  was  a  medley  of  humanity 
possible  only  in  a  frontier  town.  Women  had  resurrected 
dresses  more  or  less  old  in  style,  from  the  depths  of  swad- 
dling sheets  necessary  to  keep  them  from  the  dust  of  sand- 
storms penetrating  chests  and  trunks.  Husbands,  whose 
"best  suits"  smelled  of  camphor,  helped  shoo  small  girls 
in  stiffly  starched  white  dresses,  tied  with  varied-coloured 
sashes,  and  boys  who  twisted  and  squirmed  uneasily  under 
the  galling  yoke  of  white  collars  and  shirts. 

Fortified  with  promises  of  ice-cream  and  cake,  the  young- 
sters were  distributed  on  a  double  row  of  chairs  back  of 
the  minister  and  facing  the  audience,  where  they  had  a 
full  view  of  the  other  victims.  Many  miners  had  wan- 
dered into  town  for  their  usual  Saturday-night  and  Sun- 
day recreation,  only  to  face  the  unprecedented  situation  of 
the  closed  stores  and  saloons — learning  that  there  was  no 
"balm  in  Gilead"  from  seven  till  eleven,  for  the  first  time 
on  record  in  the  Territory,  they  headed  voluntarily  for 
the  church.  Mexicans,  whose  own  Catholic  church  was 
only  opened  twice  a  year,  when  the  Paclre  came  to  marry 
and  baptize  wholesale — and  frequently  married  the  par- 


26  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ents  when  he  baptized  the  infant — rubbed  elbows  with 
clerks  from  the  stores,  bartenders  and  prospectors. 

Holy,  Bronco  and  Roarer,  with  aimiable,  though  uneasy 
grins,  faced  the  pretty  school-teacher,  Miss  Gordon,  a  re- 
cent importation  from  San  Francisco.  She  smiled  sweetly 
at  them  and  held  out  a  small,  white  hand,  which  Bronco 
took  hold  of  as  gingerly  as  though  it  were  a  hot  branding- 
iron,  and  let  it  drop  as  quickly.  Holy,  not  to  be  outdone, 
extended  his  own  horny  hand,  but  Miss  Gordon  said,  "I 
have  to  ask  for  your  pistols,  please,  until  you  are  ready 
to  go.  There  are  so  many  people  here  tonight  we  had  to 
make  this  rule.'' 

In  consternation  that  was  almost  paralysis,  they  stared 
at  her  outstretched  hand,  then  looked  at  her  wheedling 
smile.  Reluctantly,  half-bewildered,  each  man  slowly 
drew  his  beloved  gun  from  the  holster  in  which  it  reposed, 
and  helpless,  watched  her  add  it  to  the  stack  on  a  table 
behind  her.  Then  they  looked  at  each  other  forlornly. 
Still  under  the  influence  of  that  dazzling  smile,  they  made 
no  resistance  as  Miss  Gordon  drove  them  forward.  They 
were  as  embarrassed  as  though  stripped  of  more  conven- 
tional apparel  than  six-shooters,  but  they  hoped  the  contor- 
tions of  their  faces  might  be  classed  as  happy  smiles  when 
they  saw  they  were  expected  to  shake  hands  with  the  long, 
rigid  line  of  the  Committee  of  Ladies  which  flanked  the 
minister. 

As  Limber  entered  the  church,  he  saw  his  outfit  run  the 
gauntlet  of  introductions,  then  they  turned  precipitately 
with  relieved  countenances  and  slipped  into  chairs  at  the 
centre  of  the  room.  Bronco  advised  this  location.  "Ice- 
cream might  give  out  if  we  get  too  fur  back.  Thar's  a 
lot  of  people  here  tonight." 

A  program  followed  in  which  the  school  children  sang  a 
song,  pitched  in  as  many  keys  as  there  were  voices.  A  reci- 
tation by  a  boy  of  fourteen,  starting  in  a  megaphone  voice, 
and  after  the  fifth  line  lapsing  into  a  whisper,  a  gasp,  si- 
lence— a  bobbing  head — and  ending  in  hasty  exit. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  27 

Next  a  five-year  old  carefully  starched  youngster  gal- 
loped breathlessly  without  a  pause  through  a  couple  of 
verses,  exploiting  her  knowledge  that  she  knew  the  audience 
would  be  surprised  that  "one  my  age  should  speak  in  pub- 
lic on  the  stage."  The  applause  had  hardly  died  when  a 
buxom  lady  with  white  kid  slippers  three  sizes  too  small, 
appropriated  the  piano.  She  arranged  her  toes  on  the 
pedals,  then  wiggled  her  feet  until  the  heels  slid  out.  An 
expression  of  beatitude  adorned  her  face,  her  chubby  hands 
were  lifted  and  came  down  on  the  tinkling  keys. 

The  assaulted,  helpless  piano  responded  with  the  familiar 
"Maiden's  Prayer,"  while  an  apparition  in  a  white  lace 
curtain  materialized  at  the  back  door  of  the  room,  flopping 
and  twisting  toward  the  spell-bound  spectators.  The  num- 
ber had  been  announced  as  an  "Interpretative  dance,"  and 
Holy  whispered  cautiously  to  Bronco,  "Is  it  an  Apache 
dance,  or  has  she  just  tooken  carbolic  acid?" 

1 '  Search  me, ' '  was  the  response.  ' '  Looks  like  a  mixture 
of  both  of  'em." 

The  dancer  was  agile  and  angular.  She  had  the  distinc- 
tion of  being  the  only  old  maid  in  the  county.  Her  bare, 
thin  arms  waved,  gyrated,  supplicated;  her  knees  cracked 
audibly  several  times,  but  her  mind  was  far  away.  She 
was  mentally  repeating  the  instructions  she  had  studied  so 
carefully  from  a  book  entitled,  "The  Art  of  Classic  Danc- 
ing without  a  Teacher."  Then  with  a  last  squirm,  a  con- 
vulsive shudder,  she  flopped  to  the  floor,  and  ended  the 
agony  with  one  or  two  feeble  kicks. 

"It  was  a  fit!"  decided  Bronco.  "But  it's  the  wust  one 
I  ever  seed  anything  have." 

The  last  number  on  the  program  was  a  little,  weazened 
man  with  brilliant  red  hair,  lighter  red  beard,  faded  blue 
eyes,  who  had  brought  a  small  talking  machine.  With 
stupendous  dignity  he  wound  it  up,  then  stood  with  a  new 
record  ready  to  immediately  replace  the  one  being 
scratched  out  by  the  needle.  The  pile  of  records  was 
formidable  and  he  was  apparently  determined  to  skip  none, 


28  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

until  the  head  committee  lady  gently,  but  firmly  and  dip- 
lomatically, came  to  the  rescue. 

He  bowed  his  appreciation  of  the  tumultous  applause, 
assuming  it  was  intended  for  him.  It  continued  unabated. 
He  opened  his  mouth  wide,  to  express  his  gratification  at 
the  ovation  accorded.  The  muscles  of  his  face  twitched,  his 
eyes  stared  wildly  and  as  the  audience  leaned  forward  anx- 
iously, a  terrific  sneeze  smote  the  air  and  a  set  of  false 
teeth  catapulted  like  a  meteor  in  the  midst  of  the  audience. 

A  suppressed  titter,  a  bobbing  of  bodies  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  teeth,  and  then  one  of  the  children,  groping  on  the 
floor,  located  the  lost  property  and  rose  with  a  triumphant 
squeal. 

"I  got   'em!M 

The  red-haired  individual  grasped  the  rescued  property 
with  a  smile  that  proved  Nature  may  abhor  a  vacuum  but 
sometimes  permits  it  to  exist.  The  owner  of  the  touring 
teeth  surveyed  them,  then  nonchalantly  popped  them  into 
their  accustomed  place  before  he  gathered  up  his  records, 
machine,  and  resumed  his  seat  in  the  front  row  of  the 
audience,  which  directed  its  attention  to  the  minister. 

He  was  a  tall,  raw-boned  man  in  long-tailed  coat  and  the 
white  muslin  tie  needed  a  woman's  touch,  for  one  end  had 
escaped  and  hung  like  the  tail  of  a  kite,  as  he  advanced  to 
the  table  on  which  stood  a  white  pitcher,  decorated  with 
brilliantly  coloured  fiowrers;  a  part  of  the  china  set  loaned 
by  one  of  the  ladies,  whose  artistic  soul  scorned  such  trifles 
as  proportion,  perspective  or  the  mere  "holding  the  mirror 
up  to  Nature." 

In  a  few  words  the  minister  expressed  his  delight  at  this 
large  gathering  when  he  had  expected  a  small  one,  and 
thanked  the  dear  ladies  who  had  arranged  the  beautiful  pro- 
gram. Then  he  beamed  graciously  at  the  wiggling  chil- 
dren. 

"I  know  these  little  ones  are  growing  impatient,  so  will 
only  hold  you  long  enough  to  relate  an  incident  that  re- 
turned to  my  memory  as  I  sat  here  tonight. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  29 

"Many  years  ago  I  was  travelling  through  an  unsettled 
Southern  district,  and  passing  a  high,  board  fence  heard 
a  child's  voice  praying.  I  stood  up  in  my  buggy  and 
locked  over.  I  saw  a  little  girl,  a  dog,  a  cat  and  a  small 
Jersey  calf.  I  waited  till  her  prayer  ended,  then  asked, 
'My  dear,  what  are  you  doing?' 

"  'I'm  playing  Sunday  school,'  she  replied.  'Kitty  and 
Ponto  and  the  calf  are  my  Sunday-school  scholars,  and  I'm 
the  preacher.' 

"A  few  more  words  and  I  went  on  ray  way,  meditating 
upon  the  beauty  of  the  child's  devotion.  I  did  not  happen 
to  return  for  nearly  a  year,  but  when  I  approached  the 
fence  I  paused  and  peered  over.  The  child  was  there 
alone. 

"  'How  is  your  Sunday-school  getting  along?'  I  asked. 
She  broke  into  sobs. 

"  'Kitty  and  Ponto  got  to  fighting  something  awful,'  she 
answered,  'and — ' 

"  'And  where  is  the  calf?'  I  said. 

"  'He  got  too  big  to  come — unless  I  had  a  box  of  grain 
for  him  to  eat ! ' 

"The  story  came  back  to  me  and  I  wondered  how  many 
of  you  who  are  here  tonight  will  get  'too  big  to  come'  to 
services  tomorrow  morning?" 

There  were  amused  titters  from  many,  guilty  faces  and 
sidelong  glances,  but  the  tension  was  relieved  by  the  next 
words  of  the  minister;  "Now,  we  will  enjoy  the  refresh- 
ments so  generously  provided  by  our  dear  sisters!" 

At  the  back  of  the  room  were  three  immense  ice-cream 
freezers.  The  committee,  armed  with  heaping  plates  of 
the  frozen  delicacy,  flanked  by  generous  slices  of  chocolate 
layer  cake,  moved  swiftly  among  the  audience.  Miss  Jenk- 
ins carried  a  large  tray  to  the  group  formed  by  Holy, 
Bronco  and  Roarer. 

Their  eyes  appraised  the  huge  heaps  of  tri-coloured 
cream — chocolate,  vanilla  and  strawberry,  without  a  doubt. 
Their  hands  were  reaching  to  appropriate  the  plates  when 


30  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Miss  Jenkins,  who  had  danced  the  Maiden's  Prayer,  lisped 
affectedly,  ''Won't  you  boys  help  me  a  tiny,  tiny  bit, 
peath?" 

She  held  out  the  tray  and  rolled  her  eyes  pathetically. 
"It's  awfully  heavy  for  poor  little  me,  and  there  are  so 
many  people  to  wait  on.  Won't  you,  peath,  path  it  around 
and  when  it's  all  gone  I'll  have  some  more  ready  for  you 
to  therve." 

Appalled  they  stared  at  her,  as  she  continued  her  baby 
appeal  and  kept  the  tray  in  front  of  them  so  there  was  no 
possible  retreat.  The  three  reached  out  simultaneously. 
By  some  slip  the  tray  lowered  a  bit  and  Holy's  hand  went 
into  a  cold,  wet  mess.  With  a  half -choked  oath  he  jerked 
back — and  the  tray  crashed  to  the  floor.  A  scream  rose 
from  the  lady  who  had  lent  her  hand-painted  plates,  and 
in  the  confusion  that  followed  the  three  cowpunchers 
slipped  out  of  the  church  obsessed  with  visions  of  a  tri- 
coloured  milky  way  that  wended  between  gobs  of  squashed 
chocolate  cake  and  hand-painted  flowers. 

Down  the  street  they  moved.  It  was  no  time  for  mere 
words.  Even  Holy's  vocabulary  was  inadequate  to  express 
their  feelings.  Everything  was  dark,  every  place  was 
closed.  It  was  not  later  than  eight  o'clock  and  there  was 
no  place  to  go  except  to  their  room  in  the  hotel. 

In  gloomy  silence  they  mounted  the  stairs  and  sought 
refuge  in  the  little  room.  Through  the  window  they  had 
a  view  of  the  church  and  the  moving  silhouettes  within. 
The  iron  entered  more  deeply. 

Roarer  went  to  the  window,  and  like  the  prophet  of  old 
contemplated  the  Promised  Land  that  his  feet  were  not  to 
tread.  Suddenly  his  gentle,  falsetto  voice  pierced  the  si- 
lence. 

"I  hope  that  ice-scream  will  choke  that  outfit,  especially 
that  lace-curtain  female  critter!  Why  didn't  she  let  us 
alone,  anyhow?  We  was  gettin'  along  all  right  until  she 
went  and  butted  in!" 

There   was   no    response,    and   he   continued   forlornly, 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  31 

"Gosh!  There  was  strawberry  and  chocolate  and  vanilly 
all  on  the  same  plate,  and  that  hunk  of  cake  was  as  big 
as  my  fists!  And  every  one  in  town's  eatin'  it  exceptin' 
us!" 

They  lighted  the  tiny  coal  oil  lamp  and  tried  to  recon- 
cile themselves  to  the  inevitable.  As  the  smoke  from  their 
cigarettes  filled  the  room  their  effervescent  spirits  reas- 
serted themselves.  Holy  minced  over  to  one  of  the  narrow 
beds  and  robbed  it  of  a  sheet  which  he  proceeded  to  pull 
over  his  shoulders  and  twist  about  his  wrists  while  the 
other  two  watched  him  curiously.  Then  the  empty  cor- 
ridors and  rooms  rang  with  shouts  of  laughter  as  Holy 
twisted,  cavorted  and  gyrated,  waved  his  long  arms  and 
extended  supplicating  hands  in  an  amusingly  accurate  im- 
itation of  the  dance  of  the  Maiden's  Prayer.  It  was  their 
revenge  for  the  loss  of  the  cream. 

An  unexpected  climax  was  reached  when  the  sheet  slipped 
and  precipitated  Holy  full-length  on  the  floor,  but  the 
sounds  that  rose  on  the  air  could  never  be  confused  with 
the  words  of  any  Maiden's  Prayer. 

Bronco  leaned  forward  listening  intently,  and  as  silence 
reigned  once  more,  he  announced,  ''Say,  Holy,  that  was 
the  best  you  ever  done  yet.  I  counted  sixteen  new  cuss 
words  that  I  never  heerd  you  use  before.  That  was  the 
best  Maiden's  Swear  I  ever  listened  to!" 

Roarer  looked  up  suddenly.     "Say,  did  you  notice  them 

Ireezers  was  right  along  side  the  back  door?  Mebbe  we 
in  slip  over  and  corral  one  of  'em  without  being  cotched. 
'm  powerful  thirsty  and  there  ain't  no  place  to  get  nothin' 
11  eleven  o'clock  except  the  church." 
"We  could  make  a  try  at  it,"  responded  the  others  hope- 
fully. 

They  slipped  down  the  stairs.  At  the  bottom,  Bronco 
suggested  they  get  spoons  from  the  hotel  kitchen.  It  was 
a  matter  of  generalship  to  boost  Roarer  through  the  win- 
dow, where  his  collision  with  pots  and  pans  was  no  im- 
pediment to  his  triumphal  return  with  a  soup  ladle  and 


82  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

two  large  spoons.  In  the  darkness  Roarer  was  able  to  re- 
tain the  ladle  for  himself,  handing  the  spoons  to  the  other 
boys.  Thus  equipped  they  sneaked  to  the  rear  of  the 
church  and  crawled  cautiously  to  the  open  door.  One  of 
the  cans  wras  within  easy  reach — the  other  two  some  dis- 
tance from  the  door.  Conversation  was  in  full  swing  and 
every  one's  attention  was  directed  toward  the  minister  at 
the  front  part  of  the  room. 

"Slip  her  quick/'  whispered  Bronco,  "and  then  we  kin 
pack  her  out  on  the  prairie  and  eat  all  we  want." 

The  plan  was  carried  out  successfully.  Roarer  and 
Bronco  slid  the  freezer  until  it  was  outside  the  door. 
Swiftly  they  lifted  the  tin  can  from  the  tub  of  ice  and 
hastened  away  with  their  prize,  while  Holy  kept  pace  with 
them. 

At  a  safe  distance  from  the  church,  they  paused  and  re- 
moved the  cover.  Roarer  thrust  his  dipper  down,  but  had 
to  reach  further  than  he  expected.  Deeper  he  scooped 
without  reward.  Once  more  he  tried.  It  was  too  dark  to 
see  inside  of  the  can. 

"Say,  are  you  tryin'  to  hog  it  all  yourself?"  protested 
Bronco. 

"Nope,  Take  your  turn  now." 

Bronco  wasted  no  time,  and  the  other  two  listened  to  the 
click  of  his  spoon  against  the  tin  can.  After  a  few  sec- 
onds, he  raised  up,  saying,  "All  right,  Holy.  You're 
next!" 

"How  is  it?"  asked  Holy  as  he  leaned  over  the  can. 

"Fine  as  silk,"  was  Bronco's  recommendation. 

"Best  ice-scream  I  ever  et,"  asserted  Roarer. 

Holy's  spoon  tattooed  on  the  tin;  it  scraped  forlornly, 
then  there  was  breathless  silence,  a  grunt,  followed  b^y  the 
sound  of  an  empty  ice-cream  freezer  receiving  several  vig- 
orous kicks  accompanied  by  a  terrific  volley  of  cuss-words. 

"You  darn  chumps,"  he  gasped  at  last,  "what  made  you 
go  and  take  the  one  that  hadn't  northin'  in  it!" 

"Oh,  darn  it  all.    What's  the  use,"  piped  Roarer's  gen- 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  33 

tie  voice.  " Let's  go  back  and  go  to  bed.  Thar  ain't 
nothin'  else  to  do  in  this  yere  town." 

They  were  settled  in  their  beds  when  Limber  opened  the 
door  and  peered  into  the  room. 

"Hello  !  I  been  lookin'  all  over  for  you,"  he  announced. 
"When  did  you  get  back?  I  was  up  here  a  while  ago  and 
none  of  you  was  in." 

"Oh,  we  was  just  walkin'  around  town  a  piece,"  was 
Bronco's  answer. 

"Well,  I  got  your  guns  for  you.  You  all  went  off  in 
sech  a  hurry  from  the  church  that  you  forgot  'em.  It's  too 
bad  you  boys  didn't  stay  for  the  feed.     It  was  fine." 

"Oh,  we  knowed  we  had  a  hard  day's  work  ahead  of 
us,"  drawled  Bronco,  "so  we  figured  we'd  better  come 
home  and  git  to  bed." 

"Some  one  stole  one  of  the  freezers,'  continued  Limber, 
soberly.     "But  whoever  done  it  got  the  empty  one." 

"Served  the  denied  galoots  right,"  pronounced  Bronco 
virtuously. 

"That's  what  I  say,"  endorsed  Roarer,  while  Holy  ex- 
pressed his  sentiments  more  forcibly. 

Limber  struck  a  match  which  he  held  to  his  cigarette,  but 
his  eyes  regarded  the  grave  faces  of  the  boys.  The  match 
flickered  out  and  the  room  was  again  in,  darkness,  but  not 
before  they  had  seen  the  ghost  of  a  twinkle  in  Limber's 
grey  eyes. 

"They  got  the  freezer  all  right,"  he  continued  in  the 
darkness. 

"Who  found  it?"  asked  Bronco  carelessly,  pretending 
to  smother  a  yawn. 

"I  done  it,"  said  Limber.  "I  was  just  a  walkin'  around 
town  a  piece,  like  you  all  was  doin',  and  I  come  across 
it  accidental  like." 

Silence  was  the  only  comment. 

"The  Inspector  will  be  ready  for  us  at  eleven  o'clock. 
Agent  says  the  cars  will  be  here  by  that  time,  so  we  can 
load  out  and  get  back  to  the  ranch  by  supper." 


34  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"All  right,"  chorused  three  voices  in  the  dark,  and 
Limber  went  to  his  own  room.  As  he  lighted  the  lamp 
there  was  a  broad  grin  on  his  face,  and  his  eyes  danced 
with  laughter,  while  he  reiterated  Bronco's  denunciation, 
" Served  the  darned  galoots  right!" 

Willcox  slept  late  Sunday  morning,  so  no  one  noticed 
shadowy  figures  dismount  from  three  cowponies  two  hours 
before  daylight.  A  struggling  calf  was  making  heroic 
fight  for  freedom,  but  found  itself  propelled  toward  the 
picket  fence  surrounding  the  church  and  thrust  through 
the  gate.  The  mysterious  men  hitched  the  animal  firmly 
inside  the  fence,  then  two  placards  of  pasteboard,  tied 
loosely  together,  were  thrown  across  the  calf's  back  and 
secured  like  a  pack-saddle  by  strong  cord.  This  accom- 
plished, the  three  men  mounted  their  ponies  and  disap- 
peared in  the  starlight. 

Willcox  woke,  rubbed  its  eyes  and  remembered  a  minister 
was  to  hold  Divine  Services  that  day  of  the  year.  Ten 
o'clock  arrived.  The  first  youngsters  and  their  adult 
family  connections  approached  the  church  gate.  They  con- 
gregated in  animated  groups,  were  joined  by  others,  and 
finally  spectators  across  the  street,  realizing  that  something 
interesting  was  detaining  the  congregation  from  entering 
the  church,  sauntered  over.  These  inquirers  hastened  back 
to  town  and  circulated  news  that  caused  a  vertitable  stam- 
pede. 

By  the  time  the  minister  reached  the  scene  the  crowd 
composed  the  entire  population  of  the  town — men,  women, 
children  and  dogs,  several  of  the  latter  adding  to  the  ex- 
citement by  proceeding  to  settle  feuds  of  long  standing. 

The  Reverend  Silas  Hunter  passed  through  the  gate  and 
his  eyes  swept  the  crowd,  then  rested  on  the  centre  of  at- 
traction— a  husky,  white-faced  calf  tethered  to  the  fence 
by  a  rope.  The  animal  had  been  lying  down,  in  no  way 
disturbed  by  the  people  or  dog-fights,  but  as  the  Dominie 
scrutinized  it,  it  rose  and  bellowed  loudly  into  his  face 
amid  shouts  of  laughter.    Across  the  calf's  back  swung  the 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  35 

placards  on  which,  printed  in  irregular  letters,  were  the 
words ; 

I  AM  NOT  TO  BIG  TO  KUM 

BUT  FOR  GODS  SAKE  HEAD 

OF  THE  PROJIGUL  SON. 

"Oh!"  ejaculated  the  Reverend  Hunter,  beaming  upon 
the  assemblage.  "I  see  we  have  a  donation.  We  will  keep 
the  calf,  sell  it  and  apply  the  proceeds  to  our  Church 
Funds.  Now,"  he  addressed  two  half -grown  lads,  "you 
boys  sit  close  to  the  door  during  services  and  see  that  the 
calf  does  not  get  away.  Some  unprincipled  person  might 
try  to  steal  it,  you  know.  We  will  find  a  place  to  care 
for  it  after  services." 

Across  the  street  Bronco,  Roarer  and  Holy  stood  in 
consultation.  They  had  hovered  on  the  edge  of  the  crowd 
when  the  minister  made  his  announcement,  and  they  real- 
ized there  was  to  be  no  opportunity  to  get  possession  of 
that  calf  in  order  to  turn  it  loose — as  they  had  planned. 

"Say,  he  sure  called  our  hands,"  said  Holy  despond- 
ently. "He's  too  derned  smart  to  be  a  minister.  What 
the  devil  are  we  goin'  to  do  about  it?" 

"Let  him  keep  the  doggone  calf  and  well  have  to  put 
up  a  jackpot  for  the  feller  that  owns  it,"  advised  Bronco. 

"It  ain't  marked,"  squeaked  Roarer  excitedly.  "Did 
any  of  you  see  the  brand  on  the  cow  it  was  with?" 

None  of  them  had  noticed  such  a  trifle  in  their  desire  to 
capture  the  calf  and  accomplish  the  trick  without  discov- 
ery. 

"Well,  I  guess  we'll  have  to  own  up,"  asserted  Holy, 
as  they  dropped  side  by  side  on  the  wooden  bench  in  front 
of  the  hotel,  and  stared  hopelessly  across  at  the  calf  and 
the  widely-opened  church  door. 

"We  sure  got  a  hoodoo  on  us  this  trip,"  said  Bronco. 
"First  we  got  buncoed  out  of  the  ice-scream  by  that  female 
window-curtain,  then  we   goes  and  steals  an   empty  ice- 


36  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

cream  freezer  and  now  we're  stuck  about  that  air  calf. 
It'cl  be  easy  enough  to  pay  for  it  if  we  knowed  the  mother's 
brand,  but  seein'  as  we  didn't  pay  attention  to  that,  we've 
just  got  to  buck  up  and  go  to  that  gospel-shark  and  tell 
him  we  done  it.  There's  no  tellin'  what  he'll  do  about 
it,  let  alone  the  feller  that  owns  the  calf.  Darn  it  all,  why 
didn't  Limber  stick  along  with  us  all  the  time  and  keep  us 
from  gettin'  into  this  mix-up?" 

"Looks  to  me  like  Limber  can't  do  nothin'  more'n  he's 
done,  exeept  he  chloroforms  us  the  next  time  we  get  in 
town,"  replied  Holy  emphatically. 

Then  the  unexpected  happened.  The  restless  calf,  work- 
ing against  the  stiff,  new  rope,  untied  it.  Before  any  one 
in  the  church  had  observed  it,  the  animal  was  down  the 
railroad  track  and  pushing  its  way  among  numbers  of 
cattle  that  always  congregated  near  the  inspection  chutes. 
It  moved  to  and  fro,  searching  for  its  mother.  The  watch- 
ing cowboys  could  see  the  two  placards  still  firmly  in 
place. 

"Gee!  If  we  could  just  get  them  pasteboards  off'n  her, 
nobody  would  know  what  calf  it  is";  Bronco  said  breath- 
lessly. 

"Come  along!" 

It  was  Holy  who  spoke  and  led  the  way  to  where  their 
ponies  stood  tied  and  saddled  ready  for  work  when  Limber 
and  the  Inspector  arrived. 

"We  kin  ride  down  there  and  scoop  it  off  in  no  time." 

The  ponies  dashed  forward  in  a  cloud  of  dust,  but  as 
they  neared  the  group,  a  long-horned  buckskin  cow  turned 
angrily  as  the  calf  pushed  against  it,  and  with  a  sidesweep 
of  her  horn  she  caught  the  string  that  held  the  placards. 
The  string  broke,  but  the  placards  snapped  over  the  cow's 
eyes,  twisted  tightly  to  her  horn,  and  with  a  frightened 
bellow  she  dashed  down  the  railroad  track,  past  the  emerg- 
ing congregation,  with  the  pasteboards  banging  and  flap- 
ping across  her  face  until  she  disappeared. 

"That's  the  fust  decent  buckskin  cow  I  ever  seed,"  said 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  37 

troneo.     "She  may  have  a  yeller  hide  but  she's  a  thorough- 
ired  Hereford  inside,  you  bet!" 

Then  Limber  and  the  Inspector  came  toward  them,  and 
joined  in  the  ride  to  the  corrals.  As  they  passed  the  group 
of  cattle  they  saw  the  calf  contentedly  taking  nourishment 
from  a  cow  that  was  evidently  its  mother.  Bronco,  Holy 
and  Roarer  cast  surreptitous  glances  at  the  ear-marks  and 
brand  of  the  cow.  Their  eyes  met.  Idiotic  grins  spread 
over  each  face.  The  cow  was  branded  Diamond  II.  None 
of  them  spoke. 

The  cattle  were  inspected  and  loaded  without  any  un- 
toward incident,  and  Limber  breathed  more  easily  as  the 
time  approached  for  him  to  head  his  men  toward  the  ranch. 
It  was  only  during  leisure  hours  in  town  that  mischief 
hatched,  and  the  foreman  could  never  tell  what  might  de- 
velope  in  a  very  short  time. 

It  was  with  a  feeling  of  relief  from  responsibility  that 
Limber  tucked  the  certified  check  in  his  pocket,  but  as  they 
started  homeward  the  boys  were  as  glad  as  he.  Bronco's 
ear-splitting  whistles,  "Home,  sweet  home/'  found  sym- 
pathetic response  in  the  breasts  of  the  other  men.  It  had 
been  a  strenuous  trip.  The  ranch  loomed  like  a  haven  of 
rest. 

The  next  morning  Powell  and  Traynor  discussed  Paddy's 
proposition  with  Limber,  as  they  sat  in  the  court-yard  of 
the  ranch,  after  Limber  had  started  the  men  for  their  day's 
work. 

"Thirty-five  thousand  in  gold  coin  is  what  he  wants," 
said  the  foreman,  "and  his  bunch  of  stuff  is  worth  every 
cent  of  it  with  the  ranch  throwed  in.  He  won't  count  any- 
thing under  six  months  old,  if  you  want  to  tally  the  herd 
out,  and  tail  'em." 

"It's  a  good  buy,  "  Traynor  replied.  Then  turned  to 
Powell.  "Paddy  is  unique.  He  is  seventy-six  years  old 
and  has  toiled  many  years  to  accumulate  a  herd.  He  can- 
not read  or  write  a  word,  and  carries  every  item  of  his  ac- 
counts in  his  memory.     The  storekeepers  say  that  Paddy 


38  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

never  makes  an  error  when  their  statements  for  six  months 
are  read  to  him,  no  matter  whether  the  mistake  is  to  his 
advantage  or  not.  He  lives  alone.  Refuses  to  accept 
silver  or  paper  money  and  insists  on  gold  for  all  sales. 
He  buries  his  money  secretly,  as  he  has  no  faith  in  banks. 
He  is  a  joke  in  the  corrals,  but  no  joke,  however,  when  he 
is  roused.  A  bunch  of  rustlers  found  that  out  to  their 
sorrow." 

Limber's  eyes  twinkled,  as  Traynor  added,  "Tell  the 
doctor  what  happened.     You  were  there,  I  wasn't." 

"Well,  the  rustlers  rounded  up  a  band  of  fine  horses  and 
cattle  and  was  makin'  for  the  Mexican  border.  Pretty 
near  got  thar  when  oV  Paddy  run  into  them  alone.  Him 
and  me  had  just  parted  trails,  and  when  I  heerd  shootin' 
I  hurried  to  him.  The  rustlers  was  back  of  some  rocks  on 
the  hill-slope,  Paddy  a  lyin'  down  in  back  of  a  bit  of  brush 
not  big  enough  to  hide  a  good-sized  jack-rabbit.  His  head 
was  hid  and  all  the  rest  of  him  in  plain  sight,  and  those 
rustlers  was  pumpin'  lead  as  fast  as  they  could.  So  was 
Paddy,  but  they  had  the  advantage  of  him  everyway. 
Four  of  'em  back  of  the  rocks.  Paddy  had  shot  two  of 
their  horses  from  under  them,  and  they  let  the  stolen  stock 
run  whilst  they  hunted  shelter  afoot.  Jest  as  I  got  near 
enough  to  help  him,  he  got  a  cartridge  jammed  in  his 
Winchester,  and  couldn't  get  it  out.  He  worked  and 
cussed  around,  then  got  right  up  on  his  feet  and  walked 
around  that  hillside,  as  if  he  was  prospectin'  for  a  mine, 
takin'  his  time  to  find  something  to  pry  out  that  cartridge. 
And  those  rustlers  kept  popping  away  at  him.  Every 
time  the  dust  kicked  up  close,  Paddy 'd  squint  at  the  rocks 
and  cuss  harder.  Then  jest  as  I  got  into  the  game,  he  got 
that  gun  fixed,  and  derned  if  he  didn't  jest  walk  slow  up 
the  hill,  and  fust  thing,  the  rustlers  come  a  humping  out 
from  the  rocks  in  every  direction,  and  all  of  'em — four  men 
— with  their  hands  helt  up  over  their  heads,  and  Paddy 
back  of  'em." 

"That  was  one  of  the  times  Paddy  did  not  whisper," 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  39 

laughed  Traynor.  "Well,  I'll  see  Paddy  for  you,  and 
now,  Limber,  Doctor  Powell  wants  to  go  see  the  Hot  Springs 
and  talk  with  Doctor  King." 

"Doctor  Powell  could  cut  across  the  Galiuros  the  day  the 
boys  start  from  here  with  the  herd,"  said  Limber,  "or,  if 
Doctor  Powell  wanted  to  stay  at  the  Springs  a  couple  of 
days  with  King,  I  could  take  him  there  and  then  go  on  to 
"Willcox  to  attend  to  the  loadin',  and  go  back  to  the  Springs. 
Anyway  suits  me  that  suits  him  and  you." 

"That  would  be  the  best,"  commented  Traynor.  "You 
and  Doctor  Powell  can  leave  here  the  same  day  that  the 
herd  starts  to  Willcox.  Then  let  the  doctor  wait  at  Hot 
Springs  until  you  get  back  there  after  the  shipment." 
*  "It  would  suit  me  perfectly,"  was  Powell's  hearty  reply. 
"That  is  if  I  will  not  be  imposing  unwarrantedly  on 
Doctor  King's  hospitality." 

"If  you  knew  him  you  would  not  say  that,"  Traynor 
spoke  earnestly.  "He  is  one  of  the  biggest-hearted  men  I 
have  ever  known.  You  and  he  will  find  many  topics  of 
mutual  interest  apart  from  your  profession.  I  am  pretty 
sure  he  will  be  delighted  with  your  idea  of  sanitarium  for 
children  as  he  loves  children  dearly.  He  has  not  an  enemy 
in  Arizona.     Every  one  likes  him." 

So  the  matter  was  settled,  and  four  days  later  Limber 
and  Doctor  Powell  started  just  after  daylight  breakfast 
for  their  ride  of  twenty-six  miles  across  the  Galiuro  Moun- 
tains to  the  Hot  Springs. 


CHAPTER  THREE 

KATHERINE  GLENDON  stood  outside  the  door 
of  the  Circle  Cross  ranch  house.  On  every  side 
the  view  was  blocked  by  the  tall  Galiuro 
Mountains  above  which  loomed  a  sky  of  intense,  glaring 
blue  without  a  cloud  to  soften  it — a  sky  as  hard  and  de- 
fiant as  the  mountains  that  stared  back  at  it ;  a  masculine 
sky — a  masculine  country. 

For  eight  years  she  had  called  four  crude  adobe  rooms 
home.  Other  women  had  attempted  to  live  in  the  Hot 
Springs  Canon.  But  the  isolation  was  too  oppressive,  and 
one  by  one  the  squatters  drifted  away,  leaving  deserted 
ranches  to  testify  to  their  defeat,  until  only  the  Glendons 
and  old  Doctor  King,  three  miles  distant,  remained. 

The  morning  meal  was  over,  and  Juan  led  a  saddled 
pony  from  the  stable  to  a  hitching-post  in  front  of  the 
house.  A  tall,  heavily  set  man  slouched  out,  and  the  Mexi- 
can paused  to  ask;     " Shall  I  saddle  my  pony,  senor? 

"Not  now,"  Glen  don  replied.  "I  want  you  to  mend  the 
fence  in  the  lower  pasture.  When  you  get  done  you  can 
follow  me." 

"Bueno,  senor!"  The  man  tied  the  pony  and  went 
back  to  the  barn,  and  Glendon  dropped  on  the  steps  of  the 
porch,  scowling  at  the  ground.  Accustomed  to  these  spells 
of  moodiness,  his  wife  made  no  attempt  to  rouse  him,  know- 
ing it  would  only  increase  his  surliness. 

A  child  appeared  at  the  side  of  the  house;  glanced 
quickly  from  the  man  to  the  woman  and  then,  seeing 
his  mother  smile,  made  his  way  quietly  to  her  side  as 
she  seated  herself  on  the  steps.  He  held  a  book  in  his 
hand,  and  as  he  leaned  against  her  knee,  with  her  arm  about 

40 


SIT 

as 
lis 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  41 

his    shoulder,    turned    the    pages   slowly,    looking    at   her 
occasionally  but  uttering  no  word. 

The  sound  of  hoofs  on  the  road  caused  the  three  to 
start  curiously,  for  it  was  not  very  often  that  a  visitor 
passed  the  Circle  Cross.  Only  on  a  few  occasions  during 
the  past  eight  years  hal  anyone  except  a  cowboy  or  a 
prospector  entered  the  house.  Once  Doctor  King  had 
ridden  down  at  intervals,  but  Glendon's  aggressive  dis- 
position made  these  calls  unpleasant  for  all  of  them. 

Katherine,  knowing  her  husband  was  in  one  of  his  ugli- 
est tempers,  was  sorry  when  she  recognized  the  'white- 
haired  old  doctor,  who  loped  his  grey  pony  up  to  the  gate, 
smiling  as  he  dismounted  and  slipped  his  reins  over  the 
post. 

"Hello,  everybody!"  he  called  cherrily.  "A  day  like 
this  makes  a  man  glad  to  be  alive,  even  it  he  is  old  enough 
to  die." 

Glendon  stared  at  the  ground,  making  no  response. 
Doctor  King,  with  a  comprehensive  look,  passed  him  by  and 
smilingly  held  out  his  hand  to  Katherine,  who  came  down 
the  steps  while  Donnie  ran  ahead  of  her,  holding  up  his 
book. 

"It's  about  Sir  Galahad  and  the  Holy  Grail,"  the  child 
began  eagerly,  "and  there's  a  picture — " 

"His  mother  is  always  filling  his  head  with  a  lot  of 
trash,"  growled  Glendon,  and  the  boy  shrank  back,  the 
happy  light  dying  from  his  little  face;  but  the  doctor 
smiled  down  at  him  as  he  took  the  book  and  turned  over 
he  pages. 

It's  just  the  right  kind  of  a  story  for  Donnie  to  read,"' 

serted  the  old  man  warmly.  "This  world  would  be  a 
lappier,  better  place  it  we  all  had  the  strength  to  live  up 
to  our  Vision." 

Turning  to  Mrs.  Glendon,  he  continued:  "I  can  only 
say  'howdy  and  good-bye'  today.  I'm  on  my  way  to  see 
a  couple  of  sick  people  on  the  San  Pedro  River,  but  will 
stop  when  I  come  back  in  three  or  four  days.     By  the 


42  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

way,"  he  said  to  Glendon,  "when  I  was  in  town  last  week, 
there  was  a  telegram  from  Fort  Apache  to  Fort  Grant  say- 
ing that  old  Geronimo  and  about  a  hundred  and  twenty- 
five  Chiricahua  Apaches  have  jumped  the  reservation  and 
the  troops  are  out  after  them." 

"Do  you  suppose  there  is  any  real  danger?"  asked 
Katherine,  who  had  lived  too  long  in  Arizona  to  be 
frightened  at  rumors. 

"No  one  can  count  on  an  Apache.  He's  a  twin-brother 
to  Mark  Twain's  jack-rabbit — 'Here  he  comes — there  he 
goes!'  He  knows  that  Army  officers  are  tangled  with  red 
tape  and  unable  to  use  their  own  judgment  in  pursuing 
him  and  takes  advantage  of  that  fact.  However,  you  know 
there  is  one  safe  place  in  Arizona  and  that  is  the  Hot 
Springs;  because  the  Apaches  are  superstitious  about  the 
water.  The  house  is  safer  than  any  fortress  for  that 
reason.  I've  lived  there  twenty-five  years  and  never  been 
bothered  by  them.  Even  Indians  employed  as  Government 
scouts  have  the  fear,  and  will  not  camp  within  a  mile  of  the 
Springs,  I  've  been  told  by  officers  and  interpreters.  I  wish 
you  folks  lived  a  bit  closer  to  me. ' ' 

He  rose  as  he  spoke.  "Well,  I'll  stop  on  my  way  back, 
Mrs.  Glendon.  It's  hardly  neighbourly,  rushing  off  this 
way,  but  you  know  a  doctor  is  not  his  own  master.  Take 
my  advice,  young  man,"  he  added  to  Donnie,  "never  be  a 
doctor,  whatever  you  may  do.  Why,  just  think  how  un- 
grateful people  are!  You  get  them  well,  or  try  to  help 
them,  and  when  they  see  you  they  stick  out  their  tongues 
at  you ! ' ' 

Donnie  laughed,  and  King  continued:  "I  don't  believe 
those  people  on  the  San  Pedro  would  mind  if  I  took  time 
to  give  you  a  ride.  You  see,  a  little  bird  told  me  that  today 
was  your  birthday,  and  we  haven't  had  a  ride  for  a  long 
time." 

Placing  the  book  in  his  mother's  hand,  the  boy  hastened 
to  the  old  grey  horse  and  was  lifted  up  in  front  of  the 
saddle.     Doctor  King  mounted  and  slipped  his  arm  about 


th< 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  43 


the  little  fellow  as  the  pony  started  at  an  easy  lope  down 
the  road  towards  Hot  Springs  lying  south  of  the  Circle 
Cross  in  the  opposite  direction  from  the  San  Pedro  River. 

"So  you  are  six  years  old  today?"  quizzed  the  Doctor. 
"Getting  a  big  boy  now,  and  it  won't  take  many  birthdays 
for  you  to  be  a  man." 

"Marmee  gave  me  a  book."  Donnie  spoke  freely,  now 
that  he  was  not  in  the  vicinity  of  his  father.  "She  made 
a  cake  for  me  with  white  icing  and  six  little  red  candles; 
and  Juan  bought  a  mouthorgan  for  me  when  he  was  in 
Willcox,  and  he  is  going  to  show  me  how  to  play  on  it 
when  Daddy  isn't  home,  so  the  noise  won't  make  him 
nervous.  Daddy  is  going  to  Jackson  Flats,  and  Marmee 
and  I  are  going  to  read  the  book  tonight.  We  lit  the 
candles  and  cut  the  cake  this  morning,  so  Daddy  and  Juan 
could  see  it  and  have  some  in  their  lunch.  I'll  give  you 
a  piece  of  it  when  we  get  back  home.  It  was  awful 
pretty." 

The  doctor's  hand  reached  over  the  boy's  shoulder. 
"You  can't  guess  what  I  have  in  it,"  he  challenged,  and 
Donnie  shook  his  head  slowly. 

"Open  my  hand,  and  findings  shall  be  keepings,"  bade 
the  old  man. 

After  several  futile  attempts,  the  fingers  relaxed  and 
Donnie  gave  a  cry  of  delight.  It  was  a  penknife  with  four 
bright  blades — a  real  penknife  like  those  men  carried — 
the  first  knife  he  had  ever  owned  in  his  life. 

"Oh!"  the  child's  surprise  could  find  no  other  word  for 
a  few  seconds,  as  he  surveyed  his  treasure;  then  he  lifted 
his  happy  face.  "I  always  kiss  Marmee  when  she 
'sprises  me,"  he  said  shyly,  "but  Daddy  says  men  don't 
slobber, ' ' 

The  grey  horse  came  to  a  halt  and  began  nibbling  con- 
tentedly at  the  bunch  grass  between  the  rocks.  He  was 
accustomed  to  these  halts  when  Donnie  and  the  doctor 
rode  and  talked  of  many  things.  When  one  is  young  in 
the  world  it  is  easy  to  clasp  hands  with  those  who  are 


44  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

nearing  the  border  of  another  world.  Together  they  see 
life  in  the  same  light.  Youth  has  not  learned  to  place  a 
false  value  on  imitations  and  age  has  turned  from  them  in 
disgust.  So  the  child  and  the  old  man  understood  each 
other. 

"Once  upon  a  time,  Donnie,  many  years  ago,  I  had  a 
little  boy,  and  when  he  wTas  six  years  old  I  gave  him  that 
knife,  and  when  I  gave  it  to  him,  he  kissed  me.  Then, 
afterward,  we  made  a  wonderful  boat  with  sails.  When  I 
come  back  from  the  River,  you  and  I  will  make  a  boat  like 
it  to  sail  in  the  big  pond  at  the  Springs." 

The  child  looked  up,  then  his  arms  went  about  the  neck 
of  the  old  man  and  their  lips  met. 

As  the  grey  horse  turned  back  toward  the  Circle  Cross, 
Donnie  was  silent  for  a  few  minutes,  then  asked,  "Where 
is  your  little  boy,  now?" 

King's  face  bent  over  the  child's  curls,  his  chin  rested 
on  his  chest,  his  eyes  were  dim  wTith  recollection,  as  he 
answered  gently,  "lie  went  away  from  me,  Donnie." 

"Did  he  die?" 

"Yes;  and  that  was  when  he  gave  his  knife  for  them  to 
give  to  me  when  I  got  back  home." 

They  neared  the  porch  where  Katherine  stood  talking 
earnestly  to  her  husband.  Doctor  King  let  the  child  slip 
from  the  saddle  without  himself  dismounting.  Donnie  ran 
to  show  his  new  gift. 

"What  a  perfectly  splendid  knife!"  exclaimed  his 
mother,  opening  the  blades.     ' '  Why  !     It  has  four  blades ! ' ' 

Gratified,  the  child  turned  uncertainly  to  his  father, 
holding  out  the  knife  for  his  inspection  and  approval. 
"See,  Daddy!" 

Glendon  impatiently  brushed  away  the  hand  and  knife. 
Katherine 's  eyes  dimmed  with  sudden  tears  at  the  crest- 
fallen face  of  the  boy  and  she  held  out  her  hand  again  for 
the  knife.  King's  eyes  flashed  angrily,  and  he  checked  the 
horse  he  was  riding  away. 

"Marmee,  can't  I  give  doctor  a  piece  of  my  birthday 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  45 

cake?"  begged  the  child,  and  Katherine  with  hearty  assent 
went  into  the  house,  followed  by  the  boy.  In  a  few  seconds 
they  emerged,  Donnie  proudly  bearing  a  bit  of  cake  crudely 
decorated  with  white  icing  and  a  tiny  red  candle  that  had 
burnt  low.  No  words  had  been  exchanged  between  the  two 
men  in  the  interval. 

Doctor  King  regarded  the  cake  with  admiration;  ate  it 
and  was  loud  in  his  praise  as  the  finest  birthday  cake  he 
had  ever  tasted,  and  Donnie's  face  lighted  up  once  more. 

Glendon  paid  no  attention  to  this  episode  and  moved  to 
the  hitching-post  where  his  pony  waited.  He  unfastened 
the  tie-rope  without  uttering  a  word.  Doctor  King 
studied  the  sullen  face. 

"Which  way  are  you  going?"  he  asked  pleasantly  as 
Glendon  swung  on  the  pony  and  dug  spurs  into  the  ani- 
mal's sides,  yanking  viciously  at  the  cruel  Spanish,  bit  as 
the  pony  started. 

"Jackson  Flats,"  was  the  curt  answer. 

"Do  you  think  it  wise?     This  report  is  reliable." 

"Back  tomorrow  afternoon." 

"  I  '11  ride  as  far  as  the  forks  of  the  trail  with  you, ' '  said 
King,  ignoring  the  surliness  of  the  other  man  and  con- 
gratulating himself  upon  having  an  opportunity  to  broach 
a  topic  that  had  occupied  his  thoughts  for  many  months. 

Glendon 's  look  was  not  inviting,  but  side  by  side,  the 
two  men  rode  into  the  Hot  Springs  Canon  toward  the  San 
Pedro  River.  The  wagon  road  terminated  at  the  stable  of 
the  Circle  Cross,  and  from  there  merged  into  a  narrow, 
rocky  trail  which  twisted  zig-zag  at  the  bottom  of  the 
canon  for  five  miles,  then  divided.  One  fork  of  the  trail 
struck  up  the  side  of  the  mountain  and  led  to  Jackson 
Flats,  twenty  odd  miles  distant ;  the  other  followed  the  bed 
of  the  dry  creek  to  the  San  Pedro  River,  fifteen  miles  away. 
In  the  rainy  season  the  sandy  canon  became  a  raging 
mountain  stream  that  was  impassable. 

The  two  men  carried  on  a  perfunctory  conversation  at 
intervals,  the  doctor  trying  to  find  a  suitable  opening  that 


46  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

he  might  not  antagonize  the  other  and  so  defeat  his  purpose ; 
while  Glendon,  submerged  in  his  mood,  replied  in  mono- 
syllables. King  looked  at  the  younger  man  in  disgusted 
anger;  but  remembering  the  woman  and  child,  restrained 
the  bitter  words  that  burned  on  his  tongue. 

"I  wish  it  were  not  necessary  for  me  to  make  this  trip 
just  now,"  the  doctor  said,  assuming  a  casual  tone,  "but 
I  cannot  put  it  off  any  longer.  I  was  thinking  this  morn- 
ing, Glendon,  that  it  might  be  wise  to  have  Mrs.  Glendon 
and  Donnie  stay  in  Willcox  until  things  are  more  settled.'' 

"If  I  kept  them  there  till  rumours  of  Apaches  are 
settled,  they  would  never  come  home  at  all,"  retorted 
Glendon.  "You  know  as  well  as  I  do  there  is  less  danger 
when  the  Indians  are  reported  off  the  reservation  than 
when  it  is  supposed  they  are  quiet.  Besides,  they  will  be 
in  too  much  of  a  hurry  just  now,  trying  to  get  across  the 
Mexican  border  before  the  Tenth  Cavalry  catches  them. 
They  won't  be  up  to  any  deviltry  for  a  while." 

King  could  not  help  acknowledging  the  truth  in  Glen- 
don's  words,  but  a  sense  of  uneasiness  oppressed  him. 

They  reached  the  parting  of  the  trails.  "So  long!" 
muttered  Glendon,  but  King  laid  a  detaining  hand  on  his 
shoulder.  Glendon  turned  his  bloodshot  eyes  on  the  old 
man  and  hitched  his  shoulder  from  the  wrinkled  hand. 

"Glendon,  there's  something  I  have  wanted  to  say  to 
for  a  long  time.  I'm  an  old  man,  and  being  a  doctor  gives 
me  many  privileges,  you  know." 

Glendon 's  lips  tightened.  He  made  no  reply  as  he 
slouched  in  his  saddle,  slapping  his  leather  'chaps'  with 
his  quirt.  King  hesitated  a  second  and  then  went  on 
speaking  in  his  kindly  voice. 

"My  life  has  been  long,  Glendon,  and  my  trail  has  led 
over  many  rough  places.  I  'm  almost  at  the  end  of  it  now. 
"When  one  looks  back,  one  can  see  more  clearly.  You  are 
just  starting  life.  It  is  easy  to  avoid  the  places  where 
others  have  stumbled,  if  someone  points  them  out.  You 
have  a  splendid  wife  and  a  fine  boy ;  the  future  holds  many 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  47 

possibilities  for  you — possibilities  that  I  and  many  other 
men  envy.  Glendon,  don't  sell  your  birthright  for  a  mess 
of  pottage." 

The  other  man  scowled,  but  was  silent,  and  King  hoped 
that  his  words  were  reaching  the  man's  heart. 

"Let  me  help  you,"  pleaded  the  doctor  eagerly.  "I 
understand  what  a  struggle  it  is  to  overcome  one's  self- 
Years  ago  I  threw  away  my  chances,  and  I  know  the  cost. 
I  saw  friends  avoid  me,  and  I  did  not  care.  My  patients 
deserted  me,  because  I  was  not  to  be  relied  upon;  my  wife 
and  boy  were  taken  from  me  while  I  was  too  drunk  to 
know  they  were  dead.  My  father  pleaded  with  me  and  I 
cursed  him.  Then  I  became  a  tramp,  drifting  from  place  to 
place,  my  only  ambition  in  life  to  get  whiskey.  The  train 
crew  threw  me  off  a  freight  car  one  day  and  I  wandered 
around  in  Arizona,  penniless  and  friendless,  until  I  was 
able  to  conquer  myself  and  find  my  lost  manhood.  Thirty 
years  ago!"  His  head  sunk  and  his  voice  trembled  as  he 
added,  "Nothing  can  ever  give  back  the  things  I  threw 
away,  nor  can  I  undo  the  suffering  I  caused  those  who  loved 
me  best.  I  saw  the  Vision,  but  had  not  the  strength  to 
follow  it." 

Glendon  laughed  sneeringly;  "So,  like  most  reformed 
characters,  who  have  had  their  own  fling  to  their  heart's 
content,  you  want  to  drag  everyone  by  the  hair  of  the 
head  into  the  particular  straight  and  narrow  path  you 
select  for  him.  Thank  you  for  your  interesting  sermon, 
King.  I  prefer  stumbling  alone.  I'm  perfectly  able  to 
look  out  for  myself.  By  your  own  admission  I  couldn't 
place  much  confidence  in  your  assistance.  Hereafter,  mind 
your  own  business  and  keep  away  from  me  and  my  family ! ' ' 
He  jerked  his  pony  toward  the  upper  trail,  and  kicked  it 
with  his  spurred  heels.  As  it  snorted  and  jumped,  Glendon 
sawed  its  mouth  with  the  reins. 

Doctor  King  watched  this  unecessary  brutality,  then 
moved  his  pony  beside  Glendon 's.  The  man's  eyes  gleamed 
with  fury,  but  the  old  man  made  one  more  appeal. 


48  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Glendon,  think  of  your  wife  and  boy,  just  a  moment! 
You  are  crushing  all  the  happiness  from  their  lives.  It  is 
taking  advantage  of  their  helplessness.  Only  a  coward 
would  do  that ! " 

King  had  said  more  than  he  intended;  but  now  that  he 
liad  spoken  his  true  thoughts  he  gazed  steadily  into  Glen- 
don's  bloodshot  eyes.  He  did  not  flinch  as  Glendon 
"wheeled  his  horse  against  the  grey  pony.  Leaning  over 
the  doctor,  the  other  man  volleyed  a  stream  of  oaths.  The 
doctor's  face  expressed  only  pity.  Glendon  realized  it, 
and  his  fury  broke  all  bounds.  He  lifted  the  heavy  leather 
whip  that  hung  on  his  wrist  and  struck  viciously  at  King's 
face.  The  grey  pony  leaped  in  fright,  so  the  blow  glanced 
to  the  old  man's  shoulder.  Glendon  raised  the  whip  a 
second  time,  then  let  it  fall  by  his  side.  There  was  no 
resentment  in  the  doctor's  face,  only  infinite  pity  as  he 
held  out  his  hand. 

"  Glendon,  I  understand.  I  struck  and  cursed  the  man 
who  tried  to  wake  me.     It  was  my  own  father." 

"You  mind  your  own  business  after  this."  snarled  Glen- 
don. "I'm  sick  of  your  meddling,  posing  and  preaching. 
I  won't  let  you,  Katherine,  or  anyone  else  dictate  to  me 
about  what  I  shall  do,  Damn  the  whole  bunch  of  you, 
anyhow ! ' ' 

His  pony  scrambled  up  the  steep  trail  under  the  sharp 
prods  of  the  spurs  and  the  lashing  of  Glendon 's  whip. 
Doctor  King  looked  after  him,  sadly. 

"The  same  old  road — each  one  stumbling  over  the  same 
rough  places — learning  only  from  his  own  bruises  and 
wounds.  God  pity  the  broken  hearts  of  those  who  commit 
no  sin  save  loving. ' ' 

The  peculiar  foreboding  that  had  oppressed  him  all  day, 
returned  more  strongly.  King  wondered  whether  he  had 
better  retrace  the  trail  and  put  off  his  trip  till  tomorrow. 
Then,  recalling  that  Juan  was  at  the  Circle  Cross  with 
Katherine  and  Donnie,  and  that  Glendon  would  return  the 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  49 

next  evening,  while  Leon's  sick  baby  needed  sorely  the 
doctor's  care,  he  finally  headed  the  grey  pony  toward  the 
San  Pedro  determined  to  make  the  trip  as  quickly  as 
possible. 


CHAPTER  FOUR 

TIE  shadows  on  the  ground  told  Katherine's  prac- 
tised eyes  that  it  was  nearly  ten  o'clock  when  she 
closed  the  book  she  had  been  reading  to  Donnie. 

"We'll  finish  it  this  afternoon,"  she  said,  "and  now  the 
bread  has  to  be  worked,  you  know. ' ' 

1 '  I  wish  I  could  be  like  Sir  Galahad,  Marmee, ' '  answered 
the  child  wistfully.  "Do  knights  hunt  for  the  Sangreal 
any  more  ? ' ' 

"Not  in  suits  of  armour,  my  dear;  but  we  all  can  be  like 
Sir  Galahad,  even  today.  The  Vision  of  Right  and  Wrong 
comes  to  everyone.  Then  the  true  knight  puts  on  his  in- 
visible armour  and  takes  the  oath  of  the  Round  Table; — ■ 
never  to  wrong  rich  or  poor;  never  to  be  cruel;  to  show 
mercy  to  those  that  ask  it;  always  to  be  true;  to  take  no 
part  in  wrongful  quarrel,  but  to  help  the  weak  and  help- 
less and  serve  the  King  loyally. ' ' 

1 '  Can 't  I  be  a  knight  ¥  I  'm  six  years  old  and  Doctor 
King  said  I  would  soon  be  a  real  man." 

His  mother  looked  down  at  the  eager  face,  then  said 
tenderly,  "Yes,  dear.  You  can  be  mother's  little  Knight. 
Kneel  down,  like  Sir  Galahad  and  take  the  oath." 

Slowly  and  solemnly  the  childish  voice  repeated  the 
words  of  the  Round  Table  oath,  while  the  distant  yelp  of 
a  coyote  quivered  faintly  in  the  air  and  the  hooting  of  an 
owl  sounded  like  derisive  laughter  for  the  woman  and  child 
alone  in  the  wild  canon.  Neither  of  them  heard  the  sounds. 
Lightly  the  child's  mother  touched  him  on  the  shoul- 
der. Her  eyes  were  misty  as  she  gazed  down  at  the 
little  knight  who  must  someday  go  out  alone  against  the 
hordes  of  invisible  foes.     Would  he  have  the  strength  to 

50 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  51 

live  up  to  the  Vision?  A  leering  face  with  bloodshot  eyes 
seemed  to  confront  her,  and  the  child's  father  drew  the 
boy  away,  saying,  ' '  He  is  mine  as  well  as  yours. ' '  She  put 
the  thought  from  her. 

"Rise,  Sir  Knight!  Defender  of  the  weak  and  help- 
less !"  she  said,  while  her  hand  rested  on  the  boy's  shoulder. 

The  child  rose  with  serious  eyes,  then  remembering  what 
the  book  had  said,  he  knelt  and  kissed  his  mother's  hand, 
looking  up  as  he  said,  "Marmee,  now  I'm  your  knight 
really  and  truly  and  I'm  going  to  take  care  of  you  all  the 
time." 

Katherine  caught  him  in  her  arms,  and  the  newly -made 
knight  forgot  the  dignity  just  conferred,  to  nestle  against 
her  breast  and  talk  of  the  wonderful  things  he  was  going 
to  do  for  her  when  he  was  a  big  man ;  but  not  once  did  he 
speak  the  name  of  his  father. 

As  they  talked,  Katherine 's  eyes  glanced  at  the  high 
edge  of  the  canon,  where  the  trail  led  to  Jackson  Flats; 
she  was  surprised  at  seeing  something  that  moved  along 
the  trail  toward  the  house.  Two  horsemen  were  distinctly 
silhouetted  against  the  sky,  then  a  turn  in  the  trail  hid 
them  from  view. 

She  rose  hastily,  speaking  to  the  child.  "Your  father 
and  Juan  are  coming  back,"  she  said.  "So,  if  you  will 
run  and  get  some  dry  wood,  I'll  start  the  stove." 

Donnie  laid  his  book  on  the  front  room  table  and  hurried 
out  the  back  door,  but  Katherine,  knowing  the  riders  would 
reappear  at  another  turn  of  the  trail,  took  a  pair  of  field 
glasses  from  a  nail,  and  focused  them  on  the  point.  She 
wondered  if  her  imagination  tricked  her  when  she  saw 
several  other  figures  in  the  gap  where  the  first  two  had 
appeared.  Three,  this  time ;  then  more  followed,  a  fourth 
group  loomed  for  a  few  minutes,  then  they,  too,  vanished 
like  wraiths. 

Her  breath  fluttered,  her  heart  pounded  heavily,  for  she 
knew  too  well  what  that  line  of  riders  meant.  The  glasses 
crashed  from  her  nerveless  hands,  and  Donnie  came  run- 


52  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ning  to  her  side.  She  looked  at  him,  paralyzed  by  the 
knowledge  that  those  coming  down  the  trail  toward  the 
little  home,  were  Geronimo,  the  grim,  blood-thirsty  Medi- 
cine Man  of  the  Apaches,  and  his  band  of  bronco  Indians. 

Stories  of  the  hideous  fates  that  had  befallen  women  and 
children  at  various  times  of  the  Apache  outbreaks,  flashed 
across  her  brain.  Then  she  recalled  Doctor  King's  words, 
"You  can't  get  an  Indian  within  a  mile  of  my  place."  To 
remain  in  her  home  and  barricade  herself  was  hopeless,  but 
she  could  try  to  reach  the  protection  of  the  Hot  Springs 
with  her  boy. 

Donnie  asked  no  questions  when  she  went  into  the  house 
and  returned  at  once,  buckling  a  belt  of  cartridges  about 
her  waist.  A  pistol  swung  in  the  holster.  The  field 
glasses  had  not  been  broken  in  the  fall ;  she  lifted  them 
and  looked  once  more  at  the  gap  of  the  trail.  There  was 
nothing  to  be  seen.  The  Indians  could  not  make  fast  time 
down  from  that  point,  she  knew,  nor  could  they  see  the 
ranch  or  canon  until  almost  upon  the  little  corral  back  of 
the  house. 

"Come,  dear/'  she  said,  as  she  seized  the  child's  hand, 
and  together  they  hurried  down  the  steps  through  the 
dense  mesquite  and  shrubbery,  on  the  road  to  Hot  Springs. 

The  child  could  not  keep  pace  with  her  nerve-driven  feet. 
She  felt  him  lag,  and  looked  down  into  his  white  face  and 
tear-filled  eyes,  and  realized  that  he  understood  their 
danger.     She  stopped  and  clasped  him  in  her  arms. 

' '  Don 't  be  afraid,  dear.     They  won 't  find  us. ' ' 

He  tried  to  smile,  but  his  lips  quivered.  In  her  despera- 
tion a  thought  was  born.  It  would  be  impossible  to  reach 
the  Springs,  but  up  on  the  side  of  the  canon  was  a  large 
cave.  She  and  the  child  had  often  gone  there  pretending 
they  were  explorers.  The  entrance  was  concealed  by 
heavy  brash  and  surrounded  by  huge  boulders.  It  had 
been  a  place  of  refuge  many  times  for  the  child  when  his 
father's  irascible  temper  awakened. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  53 

"We'll  go  to  our  cave,"  she  said,  "and  you  know  we're 
the  only  ones  who  can  find  it. ' ' 

Donnie's  hand  gripped  hers  tightly,  and  with  a  sharp 
survey  of  the  trail  to  Jackson,  she  started  the  climb  up  the 
steep  canon  side,  always  keeping  in  the  thickest  part  of  the 
mesquite.  Down  the  cafion  they  had  to  cross  the  bed  of  the 
dry  creek,  but  once  that  was  passed  the  boulders  stood 
thickly.  Slowly  they  made  their  way,  for  the  rarefied 
Arizona  air,  the  sharp  pitch  of  the  incline,  the  almost  dead 
weight  of  the  stumbling  child,  the  fear  of  those  who  rode 
back  of  them  made  the  climb  doubly  hard. 

At  last  they  reached  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  and  sink- 
ing to  her  knees,  she  half-pushed,  half-dragged  the  terri- 
fied child  into  their  place  of  refuge.  "With  her  arm  about 
the  boy,  she  sat  huddled  against  the  side  of  the  cave,  but 
through  the  brush  at  the  mouth,  she  could  discern  the 
Indians  riding  down  the  trail  that  ended  at  the  corral. 
They  circled  cautiously  about  the  ranch,  then  growing 
bolder  broke  into  three  bunches.  Two  groups  approached 
the  house  from  front  and  rear,  while  the  third  party  dashed 
into  the  corral  where  the  milk  calf  was  kept,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  it  was  dead.  The  Apaches,  apparently  in  frenzied 
haste,  slaughtered  and  quartered  the  calf,  not  taking  time 
to  skin  the  carcass  which  was  tied  in  sections  to  the  ponies. 
Others  chased  and  captured  all  the  chickens  possible,  wring- 
ing their  necks  and  adding  them  to  other  plunder,  until 
the  leader,  whom  Katherine  recognized  as  Geronimo,  gave 
a  command  which  was  reluctantly  obeyed.  The  entire 
cavalcade  mounted  and  dashed  down  the  canon,  following 
the  road  toward  the  Hot  Springs  ranch. 

Katherine  knew  that  the  real  danger  now  confronted  her. 
Though  the  canon  was  a  mass  of  rocks,  the  roadbed  where 
she  had  crossed  was  sand}',  making  it  possible  that  her  foot- 
prints might  be  discovered  by  the  sharp-eyed  hostile*,  who 
were  constantly  on  the  alert  for  signs.  A  short  distance 
from  the  spot  which  might  betray  her  steps,  several  of  the 


54  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Indians  halted  suddenly,  whirling  their  ponies  and  gesticu- 
lating to  the  others.  The  woman  in  the  cave  gripped  the 
revolver  more  tightly. 

"They  will  have  to  come  up  single  file,"  she  thought, 
then  wondered  why  she  no  longer  feared. 

Carefully  she  calculated  her  chances,  grateful  for  the 
obstructing  brush,  the  gloom  of  the  cave  and  its  projecting 
sides  which  would  protect  her  so  long  as  her  ammunition 
held  out.  One  by  one,  she  counted  the  cartridges  in  the 
belt,  without  taking  her  eyes  from  the  figures  in  the  canon 
below.  The  distance  across  the  canon  was  so  narrow,  that 
the  call  of  a  quail  on  the  other  side  of  the  Apaches  could  be 
distinctly  heard  by  the  woman. 

"Six,  seven,  eight/'  the  pitifully  few  cartridges  slipped 
through  her  hands  until  the  last  two  lay  in  her  upturned 
palm. 

She  looked  at  them,  then  her  eyes  travelled  to  the  child, 
and  she  knew  that  she  would  not  flinch  at  the  last  moment. 
It  was  the  only  thing  for  a  mother  to  do  in  Arizona,  miles 
away  from  any  living  being  except  'bronco'  Apaches. 

Donnie's  eyes  met  hers,  but  he  asked  no  question  with 
his  lips.  The  Indians  were  becoming  more  excited.  Their 
voices  reached  the  place  where  the  mother  and  boy  had 
found  refuge.  Eatherine  peered  through  the  bushes. 
Geronimo  was  speaking,  the  others  listened,  and  in  obedi- 
ence to  his  gesture,  wheeled  their  ponies  and  rode  up  the 
side  of  the  canon  opposite  the  cave.  They  reached  the 
ridge,  halted  a  few  minutes  in  consultation,  then  turned 
their  ponies'  south-east  along  the  backbone  of  the  eleva- 
tion until  they  vanished  like  a  hideous  nightmare. 

"They  are  gone,"  she  spoke  with  white-lipped  tenseness, 
as  she  held  the  trembling  boy  in  her  arms,  and  the  full 
realization  of  their  narrow  escape  swept  over  her. 

Immediate  danger  was  past,  but  it  would  not  be  safe  to 
venture  from  the  cave.  Stragglers  might  arrive  at  any 
moment.  Familiar  with  Apache  superstition  which  pre- 
vents   raids    or    fighting    during    night,    she    decided    to 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 


55 


remain  in  the  cave  until  it  was  dark,  then  creep  to  the 
house  and  obtain  food  and  water.  Sunrise  was  the 
favourite  time  with  Apaches  in  making  attacks.  She 
dared  not  further  attempt  to  reach  the  Hot  Springs. 
Then  she  wondered  if  her  husband  and  Juan  had  escaped 
the  Indians  or  not. 


CHAPTER  FIVE 

IT  was  almost  noon  when  Katherine  saw  two  horsemen 
coming  along  the  road  that  led  from  Hot  Springs, 
and  her  fears  returned.  But  as  the  riders  ap- 
proached more  closely,  a  look  of  almost  incredulous  relief 
showed  on  her  pale  face.  Hastening  from  the  cave,  she 
stood  on  the  slope  of  the  canon,  holding  out  her  arms. 

''Limber!  Limber!"  she  called,  half -laughing,  half- 
sobbing. 

The  men  jerked  their  ponies  suddenly,  stared  up  and  ex- 
changed a  few  hasty  words,  then  sprang  from  their  saddles 
and  hurried  toward  her. 

"What  is  the  matter,  Mrs.  Glendon?"  Limber  was  the 
first  to  reach  her,  and  his  face  was  almost  as  white  as  hers, 
as  she  swayed  slightly.  Her  outstretched  hands  were 
caught  in  his  firm  grasp  and  the  touch  steadied  her.  She 
tried  to  smile  into  his  eyes. 

"I'm  all  right  now,"  she  said,  making  a  brave  effort  to 
control  her  faltering  voice,  "but,  you  see,  the  Indians 
passed  here  this  morning.  Donnie  and  I  hid  in  the  cave. 
I  thought  they  were  coming  back  when  I  saw  you." 

"Whar's  Glendon?"  demanded  Limber  sharply,  his  eyes 
narrowing  as  he  spoke. 

"At  Jackson  Flats  with  Juan.  They  will  be  home  to- 
night." 

"He  had  no  business  leavin'  you  alone;"  the  cowboy's 
voice  was  angry.  "He  knowed  the  Indians  was  restless. 
I  warned  him  last  week  when  I  seen  him  down  in  town,  and 
he  promised  me  he  wouldn't  take  no  chances  with  jou  and 
Donnie." 

"Doctor  King  told  us  this  morning,  but  we  did  not  think 

56 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  57 

there  was  any  immediate  danger,  Limber,"  she  said.  The 
man  understood  the  gentle  reproof. 

"I  didn't  mean  to  knock  Glendon,  but  it  was  takin'  a 
heap  of  chances,  jest  the  same,  and  Glen  hadn't  orter  done 
it  when  he  knowed  Geronimo  had  jumped  the  Reservation 
an'  your  ranch  right  on  the  old  Indian  trail  to  Mexico." 

He  turned  to  Powell  who  had  been  observing  the  woman. 

"This  is  Doctor  Powell,  Mrs.  Glendon.  We  rid  across 
from  the  Diamond  H  to  see  Doctor  King.  He  ain't  home 
today,  though." 

Powell  clasped  the  extended  hand  and  felt  the  quivering 
nerves,  but  before  he  could  speak,  Donnie  appeared  at  the 
entrance  of  the  cave,  his  darkly-circled  eyes  telling  the 
hours  of  fear. 

"Hello,  Donnie!"  called  Limber  cheerfully,  placing  a 
calloused  hand  gently  on  the  lad's  shoulder.  "You  fooled 
ol'  Geronimo  that  time,  all  right.  We've  got  the  laugh  on 
him,  haven't  we?" 

A  faint  smiled  rewarded  the  cowboy,  whose  glance  now 
rested  on  the  little  pile  of  cartridges  and  the  pistol.  Lim- 
ber said  nothing,  but  stooped  for  the  gun  and  ammunition, 
then  he  saw  the  two  cartridges  lying  apart  from  the  others. 
The  muscles  of  his  jaws  twitched.  As  he  picked  up  the 
last  two,  he  hesitated  and  looked  closely  at  the  ground. 
His  eyes  travelled  toward  the  rear  of  the  cave  then  past  the 
brushy  entrance.  Katherine  and  Powell  were  making  their 
way  down  the  side  of  the  canon  and  Donnie 's  hand  was 
held  by  the  doctor.  Limber  followed  them,  lifted  the  child 
to  Peanut's  back,  and  with  a  nod  at  Powell,  mounted  the 
other  pony  and  rode  slowly  toward  the  ranch  house,  while 
the  doctor  and  Katherine  talking  earnestly  together,  took 
a  shorter  cut. 

They  found  the  kitchen  of  the  ranch  in  chaos.  It  bad 
been  rifled  of  all  provisions,  but  owing  to  the  haste  of 
Geronimo  nothing  but  blankets  and  some  Navajo  rugs  had 
been  taken  from  the  rest  of  the  house.  Limber,  hearing  the 
milk  cow  bawling  at  the  corral,  left  Powell,  Donnie  and 


58  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Katherine  in  the  house  taking  inventory  while  he  announced 
his  intention  of  milking  the  cow. 

When  the  cowboy  opened  the  corral  gate,  Beauty,  the 
cow,  rushed  into  the  corral  and  sniffed  the  ground  suspici- 
ously. She  caught  the  scent  of  fresh  blood  and  lifted  her 
head,  her  eyes  rolling  wildly  as  she  bellowed  rapidly  and 
shrilly,  sucking  her  breath  audibly  between  her  cries,  like 
terrible  sobs. 

"You  may  be  only  a  cow,  but  you  know  enough  to  have 
it  hurt  you  jest  like  humans, ' '  said  Limber  pityingly,  as  he 
offered  feed  which  she  refused  to  touch.  Gently  he  stroked 
her  heaving  sides,  and  she  paused  in  her  cries,  looking  at 
him  with  eager,  appealing  eyes.  Then,  as  though  under- 
standing he  could  not  help  her,  she  resumed  her  shrill 
grief. 

Limber  tied  her  to  the  fence,  milked  her  and  carried  the 
bucket  to  the  kitchen.  He  put  it  on  the  table,  glanced  at 
the  empty  wood-box  and  left  the  room.  In  a  few  minutes 
the  sound  of  splitting  wood  mingled  with  Donnie's  chatter 
and  Powell's  occasional  remarks  to  Limber.  From  the 
kitchen  they  heard  the  cheerful  clatter  of  pans  and  the 
hum  of  an  egg-beater. 

The  little  dining-room  into  which  Powell  was  summoned 
half  an  hour  later,  showed  no  traces  of  the  hurried  visit  of 
the  Apaches.  The  table  was  spread  with  fresh  linen  and 
decorated  with  a  bowl  of  wild  flowers.  Despite  the  raid  on 
her  larder,  Katherine  had  managed  to  provide  a  luncheon 
to  tempt  even  a  jaded  palate. 

"You  must  have  Aladdin's  lamp  hidden  somewhere, " 
Powell  remarked  admiringly  as  he  took  the  place  opposite 
Limber. 

Katherine  glanced  up  smiling,  as  she  served  a  dainty 
omelette. 

"Nothing  so  magical  as  that,"  she  said.  "The  truth  is 
that  the  Indians  overlooked  the  springhouse  where  we 
keep  surplus  stores.  Limber  helped  more  than  Aladdin, 
for  he  milked  the  cow,  found  a  few  eggs  and  chopped  the 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  59 

wood.     With  that  much  accomplished,  any  woman  could 
manage  a  meal." 

"We  must  agree  to  disagree,"  dissented  Powell,  but  the 
conventional  compliment  was  sincere.  He  was  filled  with 
admiration  for  the  woman,  who  within  twenty-four  hours 
had  gone  through  such  experiences,  yet  retained  her  poise. 
"I  wish  some  of  my  hysterical  women  patients  could  meet 
you,  Mrs.  Glendon." 

Her  surprise  was  not  assumed.  "Don't  give  me  credit 
that  I  do  not  deserve,"  she  answered  simply.  "When  cir- 
cumstances conspire  against  one,  there  is  no  time  to  plan  or 
think.  You  just  do  things  instinctively.  Then,  too, 
women  living  on  ranches  learn  to  adapt  themselves  to  many 
things  that  would  seem  hardships  to  other  women.  Beside, 
you  and  Limber  reached  me  just  as  I  was  beginning  to 
quake.     So  I  don't  feel  entitled  to  any  praise." 

"I  am  thankful  that  we  happened  to  come  when  you 
needed  us  most,"  the  doctor  responded  heartily.  "We 
wanted  to  see  Doctor  King;  but,  finding  him  away  from 
the  ranch,  Limber  suggested  that  wre  ride  down  here  and 
possibly  find  out  when  he  might  return." 

"Leon's  baby  was  sick,"  she  explained,  and  Limber 
nodded.     "He'll  be  back  in  a  couple  of  days,  he  said." 

"I  want  to  find  out  whether  the  doctor  will  consider  a 
proposition  of  mine  regarding  building  a  sanitarium  at 
the  Springs,"  Powell  went  on.  "Mr.  Traynor  said  King 
had  such  an  idea,  himself,  and  needed  a  partner-physician. 
That  was  how  Limber  and  I  came  this  way  today." 

"You  know  our  Arizona  custom — our  homes  are  the 
homes  of  our  friends.  You  are  royally  welcome  to  the 
best  we  have  until  Doctor  King  returns." 

The  two  men  exchanged  sudden  glances,  and  Limber  has- 
tened to  say,  "I've  got  to  get  to  Willcox  this  even,  for  the 
boys  are  on  the  road  with  a  shipment  of  stock.  But,  Doc- 
tor Powell  could  wait  here  till  King  gets  back.  I  was 
thinkin'  I  had  better  ride  down  to  Leon's  and  head  Bang 
back  this  way.     Then  he  and  Doctor  Powell  could  talk  to- 


60  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

gether,  whilst  I  kin  go  to  Willcox  by  the  San  Pedro  road 
instead  of  comin'  back  here." 

"Don't  change  any  plans  on  my  account,"  the  woman 
said  quickly,  sensing  their  thoughts.  "My  husband  and 
Juan  will  be  home  tonight,  so  there  is  no  occasion  for  anx- 
iety." 

"We'll  wait  till  they  come,"  Powell's  voice  was  decided. 
"After  they  reach  here,  Limber  and  I  can  follow  Doctor 
King.  We  have  a  new  moon  tonight  and  Limber  says  the 
trail  is  plain."  Then  Powell  changed  the  conversation  by 
asking  Donnie  if  he  spoke  Spanish,  and  the  child  nodded 
assent. 

' '  Marmee  and  I  talk  with  Juan  in  Spanish  all  the  time. ' ' 

The  doctor  continued,  ' '  I  used  to  live  in  South  America, 
so  I  learned  it  down  there.  It  varies  a  bit,  but  I  have  been 
able  to  understand  and  make  myself  understood,  so  far." 

Luncheon  over,  the  doctor  went  on  the  porch  with  mother 
and  child,  and  Limber  sauntered  back  to  the  stables  to 
water  their  ponies.  He  was  holding  the  halter-ropes  of 
the  animals  while  they  stood  by  the  water-trough,  when  he 
saw  Glendon  and  Juan  riding  down  the  trail  back  of  the 
house. 

"Hello,  Limber!"  called  Glendon  as  he  swung  from 
his  saddle. 

Limber  regarded  him  with  angry  eyes.  "Well,  Glen, 
you  sure  kept  your  word  to  me  in  fine  shape,"  he  said  in 
open  disgust. 

The  other  man  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "There's  no 
danger.  I  can't  sit  around  the  place  all  the  time  holding 
a  gun  because  some  fool  rumour  is  started  about  the  In- 
dians. ' ' 

He  was  unfastening  the  double  cinches  of  his  saddle,  but 
the  leather  straps  fell  from  his  fingers  when  Limber  said 
slowly  and  meaningly;  "No.  Thar  ain't  no  danger  now! 
The  whole  bunch  headed  by  ol'  Geronimo  passed  here  to- 
day.    That's  all!" 

Glendon 's  face  paled;  "Katherine — " 


I 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  61 

Limber  relented.  "Mrs.  Glendon  seen  'em  in  time  to 
get  away,  or  else  the  Apaches  would  of  got  her  and  Donnie. 
She  hid  in  a  cave,  and  when  we  found  her  thar  was  two 
cartridges  put  one  side.  You  know  what  that  means. 
'Tain't  a  pleasant  thing  for  any  woman  to  be  alone  and 
get  to  a  point  where  she  has  to  save  two  cartridges.  No 
man  has  any  right  to  ast  her  to  take  such  chances — and  if 
he  is  skunk  enough  to  expect  it,  he  ain't  wuth  doin'  it 
for." 

"How  did  you  happen  to  find  her?"  asked  Glendon,  fin- 
gering the  hanging  strap  of  the  cinch,  and  avoiding  the 
other  man's  eyes. 

"I  come  over  with  Doctor  Powell.  He's  a  friend  of  Mr. 
Traynor's  and  been  at  the  Diamond  H  over  a  month.  We 
come  to  see  Doc  King  and  rid  down  here  to  trail  him  up. 
He  wasn't  at  the  Springs.  That's  how  w<e  found  Mrs. 
Glendon,  and  it  made  me  hot  all  the  way  through." 

"Oh,  she's  able  to  take  care  of  herself.  I  guess  there 
wasn't  so  much  danger.  Katherine  always  exaggerates 
tilings.  She's  too  melodramatic.  I'm  used  to  her  ways, 
you  aren't." 

Limber's  eyes  flashed  and  he  grasped  Glendon 's  arm 
roughly,  compelling  the  man  to  face  him. 

"Look  here,  Glen!  I've  stood  by  you  when  every  other 
decent  man  has  throwed  you  down  for  a  yellow  cur.  I  done 
it  because  I  thought  mebbe  thar  was  a  white  streak  in  you 
that  didn't  show  on  top,  but  the  bunch  you're  getting  mixed 
with  ain't  goin'  to  do  you  no  good,  and  you've  got  to  pull 
p  mighty  quick.  Best  thing  you  kin  do,  and  what  you'd 
lighter  done  without  any  one  telling  you,  is  quit  this  coun- 

y.  If  you  ain't  man  enough  to  do  it  for  your  own  sake, 
o  it  for  their 'n;"  Limber's  head  jerked  toward  the  house. 

"You've  been  a  true  friend,  Limber,  or  else  I  wouldn't 
let  you  talk  to  me  that  way.  I  can 't  leave  here  now,  but  I 
will  pull  out  as  soon  as  I  can  arrange  it.  I  give  you  my 
word  of  honour." 

Limber  gripped  the  outstretched  hand,  "I'm  clurned  glad 


62  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

you  told  me, ' '  he  said  earnestly.  "  I  '11  do  anything  I  know 
how  for  you  and  Mrs.  Glendon  any  time  you  call  on  me." 

Juan  approached  and  removed  the  bridle  from  Glendon 's 
pony,  replacing  a  halter  on  it  he  was  turning  away,  when 
Limber  spoke,  "Thar's  fresh  lion  tracks  leadin'  to  that  cave 
whar  Mrs.  Glendon  and  Donnie  hid  this  mornin\  I  didn't 
tell  'em,  but  they'd  better  keep  away  from  the  cave. 
Lucky  the  lion  wasn't  tliar.     You  lay  for  it,  Juan." 

"Si,  Sefior,"  the  Mexican's  promise  was  emphatic,  and 
Glendon,  too,  declared  he  would  "run  the  brute  down." 

"I've  been  having  a  lot  of  bad  luck  lately,"  Glendon 
said  as  he  and  Limber  walked  to  the  house.  ' k  This  rough 
range  is  hard  to  work  and  cattle  so  wild  you  can't  round 
'em  up  without  running  all  the  fat  off  their  bones.  By  the 
time  they  are  driven  thirty-five  miles  to  "Willcox,  no  butcher 
wants  'em.  The  longer  I  stay  here  the  worse  off  I  will  be. 
I  've  written  the  old  man  and  asked  him  to  give  me  a  chance 
somewhere  else.  He  may  not  answer  my  letter,  but  it  won't 
be  any  worse  than  now,  if  he  doesn't.  I  didn't  have  enough 
money  when  I  started  to  pay  expenses. ' ' 

They  reached  the  house  where  Glendon  welcomed  Doctor 
Powell  effusively.  Something  of  the  charm  that  had  at- 
tracted friends  in  other  days,  still  was  apparent  when 
Glendon  was  not  drinking.  Powell's  keen  eyes  observed 
the  handsome  face  marred  by  lines  of  weakness  and  self- 
indulgence. 

"Glad  to  meet  you,"  Glendon 's  voice  sounded  sincere 
and  he  grasped  Doctor  Powell's  hand  warmly.  "We  don't 
have  very  many  visitors  around  here,  but  from  what  Limber 
tells  me,  it's  been  a  regular  reception  day  at  the  ranch.  I 
wouldn't  have  gone  away  from  the  house  if  I  had  thought 
there  was  any  real  danger." 

Powell,  remembering  that  Limber  had  warned  Glendon 
previously  about  the  Indians,  and  that  Mrs.  Glendon  had 
spoken  of  Doctor  King's  warning  them,  knew  Glendon  was 
lying,  and  Powell  hated  a  liar.  Glendon 's  eyes  shifted 
under  the  steady  gaze  of  the  doctor,  and  he  hastened  to 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  63 

say,  "I  don't  suppose  Katherine  offered  you  a  drink. 
Lucky  I  don't  keep  it  in  the  closet  or  Geronimo  would 
have  it  by  this  time." 

He  started  to  get  the  liquor,  but  Powell  prevented  it  by 
rising  from  his  chair  and  holding  out  his  hand  to  Mrs. 
Glendon. 

"Now  that  you  are  not  alone,  I  think  Limber  and  I  had 
better  be  on  our  way,  trailing  Doctor  King.  I  am  anxious 
to  meet  him  as  soon  as  possible." 

Katherine  and  Donnie  bade  him  farewell.  Glendon  kept 
talking  volubly.  "I'm  glad  we  know  the  Apaches  have 
passed  here.  No  danger  when  you  have  a  line  on  their 
whereabouts,  but  when  you  don't  know,  they  always  bob 
up.  They  hike  for  the  Mexican  border  when  the  sol- 
diers make  it  too  hot  for  'em  in  Arizona."  Limber  now 
led  the  ponies  to  the  gate,  and  Glendon  held  out  his  hand 
to  Powell,  saying,  "Glad  to  have  met  you,  Doctor,  and  let 
me  know  if  there  is  anyway  in  which  I  can  show  my  appre- 
ciation for  what  you  have  done  for  Mrs.  Glendon  and  Don- 
nie." 

Katherine  smiled  her  gratitude,  then  Powell  and  Limber 
rode  down  the  trail  to  the  San  Pedro  River,  followed  by 
the  eyes  of  husband  and  wife  who  stood  on  the  porch  of 
the  Circle  Cross  ranch. 

As  the  turn  of  the  trail  back  of  the  stables  hid  the  riders 
from  view,  Glendon  said  to  his  wife,  ' '  I  wonder  what  they 
want  to  see  King  about.  Looks  urgent,  chasing  him  that 
way. ' ' 

"Doctor  Powell  said  that  he  and  Doctor  King  might  form 
a  partnership  to  build  a  Sanitarium  at  the  Springs.  You 
know  that  has  been  Doctor  King's  dream  for  many  years; 
but  he  never  has  found  any  one  who  could  qualify  as  phy- 
sician and  also  have  sufficient  capital.  I  hope  they  may 
carry  out  the  plan.     It  is  such  a  splendid  idea ! ' ' 

"Oh,  you  do,  eh?"  Glendon  snarled  the  words  as  he 
scowled  at  his  wife.  "Well,  you  may  be  interested  in  know- 
ing that  I'm  figuring  on  getting  the  Springs  myself.     I've 


64  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

written  father  about  the  place.  The  only  hitch  would  be 
that  it  is  on  unsurveyed  ground,  and  no  one  can  get  a  title 
except  Squatter's  Rights." 

"But  Doctor  King  won't  sell  to  any  one  except  a  phy- 
sician who  will  live  there  with  him  and  establish  a  Sani- 
tarium," Katherine  asserted.  "I've  heard  him  say  that 
so  many  times.  He  also  told  me  that  Mr.  Traynor  had 
made  a  good  offer  for  the  place,  but  it  was  refused  for 
those  reasons.  Maybe  Mr.  Traynor  wrote  Doctor  Powell 
about  it.  You  see,  Doctor  Powell  could  qualify  as  a  phy- 
sician, and  if  he  has  not  the  money  to  finance  the  buildings, 
Mr.  Traynor  could  supply  that,  or  interest  other  capital." 

Glendon  did  not  answer,  but  sat  on  the  lower  step  of  the 
porch,  staring  moodily  down  the  canon  trail  toward  San 
Pedro.  His  wife,  learning  from  Juan  that  they  had  not 
eaten  the  lunch  in  their  saddle  bags,  busied  herself  prepar- 
ing an  early  dinner,  for  the  hands  of  the  clock  announced 
four.  She  arranged  the  table  then  came  to  the  front  door 
and  spoke  quietly.     Glendon  did  not  hear  her. 

She  moved  to  his  side  and  touched  him  lightly  on  the 
shoulder,  saying,  "Dinner  is  ready,  Jim.  Juan  said  you 
had  not  eaten  lunch." 

He  leaped  violently  to  his  feet  uttering  an  oath  and  glar- 
ing at  her. 

"What  are  you  doing?  Spying  on  me?"  he  demanded 
furiously,  and  brushed  past  her,  knocking  against  her 
shoulder  as  she  stood  in  the  doorway. 

Her  face  paled.  She  made  no  answer,  but  turned  to 
the  dining-room  where  Juan  was  at  the  table.  Glendon 
fortified  his  ragged  nerves  with  a  generous  drink  of  whiskey 
and  slumped  into  his  chair,  only  to  grumble  at  everything 
before  him  and  finally  push  away  his  untasted  food.  Then 
he  rose  so  suddenly  that  his  chair  fell  backward  w7ith  a 
crash.  He  started,  glanced  at  the  chair,  gave  it  a  kick  and 
with  another  oath,  flung  himself  from  the  house.  Through 
the  window  Katherine  saw  him  again  mount  his  pony. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  65 

She  sat  with  trembling  lips,  tears  slowly  forcing  them- 
selves from  the  drooping  eyelids  and  wetting  her  white 
cheeks.  Juan's  face  was  filled  with  pity,  but  he  knew  he- 
could  do  nothing — say  nothing,  and  he  rose  softly  and 
slipped  away  that  she  might  be  alone  with  her  misery. 
Bonnie's  hand  touched  her  cheek,  and  she  opened  her  eyes 
and  smiled  at  him,  thankful  that  the  child  was  safe.  Noth- 
ing else  mattered,  after  all.  So  while  she  removed  and 
washed  the  dishes,  she  talked  cheerfully  to  Donnie. 

Back  in  the  front  room  again,  the  boy  moved  to  and  fro, 
and  at  last  turned  his  anxious  face  to  his  mother. 

"I  can't  find  my  book,  Marmee.  Do  you  think  the  In- 
dians took  it  f  * ' 

11  Why f  no,  dear,"  she  replied,  looking  at  the  table.  She 
had  noticed  the  book  where  Donnie  had  left  it.  It  had 
been  there  when  she  called  Glendon  from  the  porch  for 
dinner.  No  one  had  passed  through  the  room  since  then 
but  Glendon. 

Carefully  she  and  Donnie  searched  the  room,  but  no 
trace  of  the  book  could  be  found.  She  stood  staring  down 
the  front  walk  to  the  gate,  unwilling  to  acknowledge  her 
suspicions  against  the  father  of  her  child.  Then  on  the 
walk  she  saw  something  that  caused  her  to  hurry  out. 

The  wind  carried  a  torn  page  to  her  feet.  She  stooped 
and  picked  up  the  fluttering,  tell-tale  bit  of  paper,  and  as 
she  held  it  in  her  trembling  hand,  the  words  caught  her 
eyes,  "and  he  shall  be  a  better  man  than  his  father."  On 
the  upper  part  of  the  page  rode  Sir  Galahad. 

"Donnie,  dear,"  she  called  and  the  boy  came  quickly  to 
her  side.  ' '  Come  and  help  me  look  out  here  for  the  book. 
Maybe  we  can  find  it  in  the  bushes,  somewhere.  See,  here 
is  a  page,  and  the  rest  of  it  must  be  close  by." 

They  found  it  torn,  soiled,  the  covers  broken  and  cracked, 
and  the  child's  sobs  came  unchecked  as  his  mother's  arms 
went  about  him;  the  ache  in  her  heart  was  too  great  for 
tears. 


66  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Donnie,  we  can  mend  it  so  it  will  be  almost  as  good  as 
ever,"  she  cheered  him,  and  the  child's  sobs  were  choked 
though  the  quiet  tears  rolled  down  his  cheeks,  as  he  went 
back  to  the  house  with  his  mother,  the  mutilated  book  held 
in  his  little  hands. 


I 


CHAPTER  SIX 

N  the  meantime  Powell  and  Limber  were  riding  down 
the  canon,  immersed  in  deep  thought  until  Limber 
said,  "Thar  was  fresh  lion  tracks  leadin'  into  that 


Powell  jerked  about,  "Good  Lord !"  he  ejaculated,  realiz- 
ing what  it  would  have  meant  had  the  brute  been  there 
when  the  woman  and  child  sought  the  place  of  refuge. 

"I  told  Glendon  and  Juan,  and  they're  layin'  for  it,  and 
Juan  '11  tell  Mrs.  Glendon  to  keep  away  from  the  cave. 
He  won't  forget  it." 

"Well,"  Powell  commented,  "I'm  glad  you  told  the 
Mexican.  That  fellow  Glendon  thinks  of  no  one  but  him- 
self. I  was  watching  the  child  when  his  father  came  on  the 
porch,  and  I'd  hate  to  have  any  child  or  animal  look  at  me 
with  such  abject  fear.  It  made  me  sick  with  fury.  How 
can  that  woman  stand  such  a  life!" 

"Glen  really  does  think  a  heap  of  her,  in  his  own  way," 
Limber  replied  slowly,  "But  when  he  gets  the  smell  of  the 
cork  of  a  whiskey  bottle,  he  goes  plum  loco.  That's  what 
made  the  row  between  him  and  his  folks  back  East.  His 
father  has  heaps  of  money,  but  won't  have  nothin'  to  do 
with  Glen.  Leastways,  that's  what  Glen  tole  me  hisself, 
onct.  He  said  today  that  he's  goin'  to  pull  up  stakes  as 
soon  as  he  kin  fix  it  to  move,  and  take  his  fambly  where 
the  Apaches  can't  run  'em  like  they  done  today." 

"I'll  give  him  credit  for  some  decent  instincts  when  he 
moves  them  to  a  half-civilized  place;  but  I  wouldn't  take 
his  word  for  anything.  He's  a  natural  liar,  I  think.  I'm 
sorry  for  that  wife  of  his,  and  for  the  child." 

67 


68  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

''She's  one  of  the  finest  women  that  ever  drawed  breath," 
answered  Limber.  "She's  stood  a  lot,  and  she'll  stand  a 
heap  more." 

Conversation  ceased  until  the  cowboy  pointed  to  a  high 
peak. 

"See  that  peak  up  yonder?  An  ol'  fellow  lived  thar 
fifteen  years  prospectin'  for  gold.  Stayed  all  alone.  He 
was  always  cocksure  he  was  goin'  to  find  a  big  mine  some- 
day. Some  one  called  him  Monty  Cristy,  and  the  name 
stuck  to  him  like  a  cockle-burr  in  a  horse's  mane.  One  day 
I  was  deer-huntin'  and  run  into  his  camp.  He  had  a  dug- 
out in  the  side  of  the  mountain  and  a  tunnel  whar  he  'd  been 
prospectin'.  I  went  into  the  tunnel  to  look  at  the  ore,  and 
found  him  sittin'  thar  against  the  side  wall.  His  pick  was 
across  his  knees  and  a  piece  of  ore  in  his  hand,  but  he  had 
been  dead  over  a  week.     I  buried  him  up  thar." 

"Was  the  mine  ever  developed?" 

"Twarn't  nothin'  to  develope.  The  bit  of  rock  in  his 
hand  was  like  all  the  stuff  on  the  dump  outside  the  tunnel. 
Plum  worthless.  Chock  full  of  iron  pyrites — not  worth  a 
damn.     'Fools'  'Gold'  is  what  the  miners  calls  it." 

The  cowboy  leaned  over  and  petted  his  pony's  neck 
gently,  then  straightened  up  in  the  saddle  and  went  on; 
"I've  often  wondered  whether  ol'  Monty  knowed  at  the 
last  that  it  was  only  'Fools'  Gold.'  Thar's  a  heap  of  peo- 
ple besides  ol'  Monty  that  keeps  on  diggin',  hopin'  for  a 
strike  and  gettin'  nothin'  but  'Fools'  Gold.'  Tain't  no 
use  talkin'  to  them.  It's  the  lucky  ones  what  don't  find 
out  the  truth,  after  they've  put  in  the  best  of  their  lives 
workin'  on  a  false  lead." 

Powell's  thoughts  went  back  to  the  woman  at  the  Circle 
Cross,  and  he  answered  soberly,  "You  are  right,  Limber." 

A  number  of  buzzards  circled  in  the  canon  a  short  dis- 
tance ahead  of  them,  but  not  directly  on  the  trail.  Limber 
called  the  doctor's  attention  to  them,  and  added,  "We'd 
better  go  over  and  see  what  it  is  that  interests  them.  Maybe 
only  a  dead  cow;  but  when  the  Indians  is  out,  you  never 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  69 

know  what  you're  running  into.  You  learn  not  to  pass 
anythin'  by  when  you  find  buzzards." 

They  left  the  trail,  worked  through  the  dense  under- 
brush that  was  matted  with  dead  grass  and  other  debris 
from  past  heavy  floods.  Buzzards  flew  up  thickly  at  their 
approach.  Then  they  sat  looking  down  at  a  grey  horse 
huddled  in  the  rocks.  Saddle  and  bridle  were  gone.  A 
few  feet  away  was  the  body  of  an  old  man,  his  white  hair 
clotted  with  blood  from  a  bullet  wound  in  the  left  temple ; 
his  sightless  grey  eyes  upturned  to  the  blue  skies,  as  though 
in  mute  questioning. 

"God!"  ejaculated  Limber,  as  he  leaped  from  his  horse. 
''It's  ol'  Doctor  King!     Damn  them  Apaches!" 

Powell's  shock  was  not  less  than  the  cowboy's,  and  he 
knelt  beside  the  body  of  the  man  whom  he  had  hoped  to 
work  with  at  the  Springs.  He  did  not  think  of  the  an- 
nihilation of  his  own  plans,  but  the  things  he  had  heard  of 
the  kindly  old  man.  Death  had  been  instantaneous.  The 
bullet  had  entered  the  left  temple,  ranged  downward  and 
out  behind  the  right  ear.  The  two  men  looked  at  each 
other,  then  Powell's  eyes  went  up  to  the  broken  side  of 
the  canon.  From  back  of  one  of  those  rocks  had  sped  the 
messenger  of  death,  with  no  warning  to  the  old  doctor 
who  was  on  his  errand  of  mercy  to  a  little  Mexican  baby. 

"Why  didn't  the  Indians  take  the  horse?"  was  Powell's 
question. 

"Because  it's  grey.  They  ain't  got  no  use  for  a  grey 
or  white  horse,  specially  when  they're  out  for  trouble." 

Limber  studied  the  ground  about  the  horse  and  its  dead 
owner. 

"Too  rocky  to  show  any  trail,"  he  commented  at  last. 

"He's  been  dead  over  night,"  Powell  asserted  as  he 
finished  examining  the  body. 

"The  Apaches  have  been  hangin'  about  for  several  nights 
in  the  Graham  range.  Thar's  two  bunches.  I  seen  'em 
signalling  three  nights  ago  right  back  of  Fort  Grant  where 
the  soldiers  couldn't  catch  sight  of  their  fires.     They  keep 


70  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

lookouts  on  the  high  peaks  and  hold  a  blanket  in  front  of 
the  fire.  Beats  a  telegraph  office.  Thar  ain't  nothin' 
smarter  'n  an  Apache,  unless  it's  two  Apaches.  You  can't 
trust  one  unless  he 's  dead.  Chances  is  that  the  two  bunches 
figure  to  come  together  at  Point  of  Mountains,  seven  miles 
north  of  Willcox.  Then  when  it's  dark  they'll  jump  across 
the  valley  to  Cochise  Stronghold  and  work  into  Mexico." 

"But,  the  soldiers  could  head  them  off,"  Powell  inter- 
posed. 

Limber  snorted.  "Sounds  that  way  all  right.  But,  if 
you  jest  look  at  these  mountains  and  canons,  you'll 
pretty  soon  see  that  the  soldiers  has  jest  as  much  chanct 
against  them  Apaches  as  an  elephant  would  have  if  you 
set  him  in  a  hayfield  to  kill  a  flea  by  trompin'  on  it.  When 
they're  tired  of  killin'  people  and  wTant  a  vacation  and  no 
hard  work,  they  come  in  and  give  themselves  up  and  go 
home  to  the  Reservation." 

"There's  nothing  to  be  done  here  now,  except  to  notify 
the  proper  authorities  at  Willcox,  I  suppose,"  Powell  re- 
sumed. "We  found  him — but  it's  a  different  ending  from 
the  way  we  thought." 

Limber  unstrapped  a  Navajo  blanket  from  the  back  of 
his  saddle,  and  together  they  wrapped  the  stiffened  form  of 
the  old  doctor. 

"Thar's  heaps  of  people  goin'  to  miss  him,"  the  cow- 
puncher  said  slowly,  as  they  stood  looking  down.  "No- 
body ever  called  him  that  he  didn't  go,  rain  or  shine.  He 
never  took  one  cent  for  what  he  done.  Jest  tol'  'em  to  feed 
him  an'  his  ol'  grey  horse  and  that  was  all  the  pay  he 
wanted.  He  was  sure  a  good  man;"  both  heads  were  un- 
covered in  silent  homage. 

"I'll  stay  here,"  continued  Limber,  "if  you'll  ride  back 
to  Glendon's  and  get  his  spring  wagon,  so  we  kin  take  the 
body  to  Willcox.  It'll  be  hard  gettin'  the  wagon  in  the 
canon,  but  I  guess  we  kin  make  it.  We'll  lead  our  ponies 
behind  the  wagon." 

Powell  was  already  mounting  his  horse,  as  Limber  added, 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  71 

"  'Twon't  take  a  Coroner's  jury  long  to  bring  in  a  verdict. 
I'm  doggone  glad,  though,  we  ain't  a  packin'  Mrs.  Glendon 
and  Donnie  along  with  Doctor  King.  They  sure  had  a 
close  call  this  mornin '.  If  Geronimo  hadn  't  been  in  a  hurry 
to  get  across  to  that  other  bunch,  they'd  sure  trailed  Mrs. 
Glendon  to  that  cave." 

"It  is  no  place  for  any  woman  to  live,"  Powell's  voice 

ibrated  with  indignation.     "I  can't  understand  how  any 

man  could  bring  a  woman  like  her  to  such  surroundings. 

I'm  glad  he  intends  to  move  his  family  away.     Any  place 

would  be  better  than  this,  for  her." 

Limber  watched  his  companion  ride  off,  then  busied  him- 
self with  a  second  examination  of  the  ground  in  the  vicinity 
of  the  dead  man  and  horse.  Satisfied  at  last  that  he  had 
overlooked  no  trace,  he  dropped  on  a  boulder  and  rolled  a 
cigarette,  but  as  he  shook  the  tobacco  from  the  sack  into 
the  brown  paper,  a  portion  of  it  fell  to  the  ground  un- 
noticed. Limber  was  staring  into  space,  an  expression  of 
doubt  lurking  in  his  grey  eyes. 

"Derned  if  I  kin  understand  why  they  took  so  much 
trouble  hidin'  their  trail,  Peanut,"  he  spoke  to  the  little 
pinto  pony  at  his  side.  "The  main  bunch  must  of  rid 
higher  up  and  one  of  'em  come  down  for  the  bridle  and 
saddle  after  King  was  shot;  but,  thar  ain't  a  moccasin  or 
any  other  track  nowhars.     It  beats  me." 

When  Powell  returned  he  was  accompanied  by  Glendon, 
who  climbed  into  the  driver's  seat  and  picked  up  the  reins 
after  they  placed  King's  body  in  the  wagon.  Limber,  lead- 
ing Powell's  pony,  followed  the  wagon,  mounted  on  Peanut. 
The  vehicle  bumped  and  jerked  over  large  rocks  of  a  trail 
that  never  before  had  been  traversed  by  wagon  wheels. 

Powell  was  not  inclined  to  talk,  but  Glendon  forced  con- 
versation, though  it  savoured  of  a  monologue. 

"King  told  us  he  had  no  one  belonging  to  him,"  Glen- 
don's  voice  broke  the  silence  of  the  canon,  while  the  team 
headed  for  the  Circle  Cross.  "Katherine  said  you  expected 
to  form  a  partnership  with  him  and  establish  a  sanitarium 


72  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

at  the  Springs.  I  suppose  his  death  will  alter  your  plans. 
All  this  part  of  the  country,  you  know,  is  unsurveyed 
ground  and  title  held  by  possession  only.  I'd  have  bought 
the  Springs  myself  if  there  had  been  a  regular  title.  Hesi- 
tated at  it  because  I  only  could  acquire  Squatter's  Rights, 
you  know.  However,  I  took  the  matter  up  recently  with 
my  father,  and  am  now  waiting  his  reply?  I  don't  under- 
stand why  King  didn't  let  you  know  I  was  figuring  on  it. 
Did  he  give  you  any  option ?" 

"No;"  answered  the  Doctor,  wondering  at  the  statement 
which  conflicted  with  what  Limber  had  just  said  regarding 
Glendon's  plans  to  leave  the  canon.  Then  he  recalled  that 
Traynor  had  asserted  King  would  not  sell  to  any  one  ex- 
cept a  physician  who  would  co-operate  with  him  in  his 
plans.  He  knew  the  man  beside  him  was  lying  for  some 
reason,  but  what  that  reason  was,  Powell  could  not  decide. 
"I  have  not  even  broached  the  matter  to  Doctor  King.  I 
came  over  today  to  look  at  the  place  and  if  it  suited  me,  to 
make  a  proposition  to  him.  I  never  met  him  and  I  don't 
believe  he  ever  heard  of  me." 

"Of  course,"  Glendon  went  on,  as  Powell  stopped  ab- 
ruptly wondering  if  Glendon  had  no  sense  of  decency  to 
keep  talking  while  the  dead  man  lay  in  the  wagon  they 
were  driving,  "I  had  no  written  agreement  with  King. 
Out  here,  a  verbal  contract  is  all  we  ask  of  a  man.  So  I 
ought  to  have  prior  right  because  of  our  understanding.  I 
don't  suppose  he  made  any  will,  as  he  had  no  heirs,  and 
could  not  will  the  Springs,  anyway,  without  a  legal  title 
to  it  himself.  •  In  that  case,  the  estate  would  revert  to  the 
Territory.  A  Government  Patent  would  have  made  less 
complication." 

He  glanced  furtively  at  Powell,  who  made  no  reply,  as 
they  had  reached  the  corral  of  the  Circle  Cross.  Katherine 
Glendon  stood  on  the  porch,  her  eyes  blinded  with  tears,  her 
lips  quivering. 

Glendon  climbed  heavily  from  the  driver's  seat,  and 
Powell  saw  that  his  steps  were  uncertain.    Limber  tied  his 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  73 

pony,  Peanut,  and  the  doctor's  horse  to  the  back  axle  of 
the  wagon.  A  few  quiet  words  were  spoken  by  the  two 
men  to  Mrs.  Glendon,  then  they  went  on  their  way  with 
their  tragic  burden,  and  each  man  was  busy  with  his  own 
thoughts. 

It  was  past  sunset  when  they  reached  Willcox.  After  re- 
porting the  tragedy  and  turning  the  body  over  to  the  au- 
thorities, there  was  nothing  more  they  could  do,  and  Powell 
went  to  the  Willcox  Hotel  where  he  obtained  a  room.  Lim- 
ber parted  from  him  at  the  door. 

"I  guess  I'd  better  hunt  up  the  boys  and  see  how  things 
is  goin'  along  with  the  cattle.' ' 

Though  neither  spoke  of  it,  the  uppermost  thoughts  in 
the  minds  of  the  two  men  was  the  woman  at  the  Circle 
Cross,  alone  with  a  man  whose  indifference  to  her  danger 
had  almost  cost  her  life  and  that  of  her  boy's. 

Back  in  the  lonely  canon  a  coyote  skulked  past  the  empty 
house  at  the  Hot  Springs.  Further  down  the  road  a  woman 
stood  at  the  door  of  her  home  staring  into  the  darkness. 

"When  she  had  made  her  final  visit  to  see  if  Donnie  were 
all  right  for  the  night,  and  leaned  over  to  press  a  kiss  on 
the  child's  cheek,  something  slipped  from  his  relaxed  hand. 
Wondering  which  of  his  toys  he  had  smuggled  to  bed  with 
him,  she  stooped  and  saw  the  pen-knife  that  old  Doctor 
King  had  treasured  through  his  long,  lonely  years.  A 
wave  of  realization  overwhelmed  her.  There  would  be  no 
more  visits  from  this  loyal  old  friend,  now.  The  future 
loomed  ahead  of  her  as  black  as  the  night  that  wrapped  ther 
;anon. 


CHAPTER  SEVEN 

THE  second  shipment  of  the  Diamond  H  cattle  had 
reached  Willcox  a  little  after  noon,  and  Holy 
lingered  at  the  Cowboys '  Rest  with  Buckboard  Bill, 
while  Bronco  and  Roarer  proceeded  up  the  street.  They 
were  not  visible  when  Holy,  hastening  through  the  corral 
gate,  encountered  Montgomery  Walton.  The  latter 's  man- 
ner was  so  cordial  that  Holy  halted  in  surprise. 

Montgomery  "Walton,  the  most  unpopular  man  in  South- 
ern Arizona,  was  almost  seventy  years  old,  though  as  alert 
as  a  man  of  forty.  His  white,  flowing  hair  and  patriarchal 
beard  were  contradicted  emphatically  by  ferret-like  face 
and  shifty  eyes,  while  his  oily  smile  exposed  yellowed  tusks. 
He  owned  a  fairly  good-sized  herd  of  cattle  that  were  pre- 
ternaturally  prolific,  as  his  cows  were  very  often  seen  with 
twin  calves  following  them.  Walton  discouraged  calls 
from  other  cattle  men,  and  lived  alone  except  for  a  half- 
witted Mexican — Loco. 

To  the  disgust  as  well  as  amazement  of  Holy,  Walton 
ambled  along  at  his  side,  and  finally,  tugging  at  the  cow- 
boy's blue  flannel  sleeve,  drew  him  to  a  bench  on  the  edge 
of  the  sidewalk.  Then  he  produced  a  letter,  extracted  a 
small  photograph  and  handed  it  to  Holy. 

"What  do  you  think  about  her?"  asked  Walton  with  a 
smirk,  as  he  pressed  more  confidentially  towards  the  cow- 
puncher. 

Holy  studied  the  picture  of  a  sweet-faced  girl. 

"Why!"  he  ejaculated  enthusiastically,  "She's  a  regular 
peacherina.    Who  is  she?" 

Walton  replaced  the  picture  as  he  said,  "She's  coming 

74 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  75 

on  the  west-bound  train  today  and  we're  going  to  be  mar- 
ried at  once." 

"Gee!  You  sly  old  dog!"  commented  Holy  jocularly, 
while  he  wondered  if  the  picture  really  looked  like  the  girly 
and  if  so,  why  she  was  going  to  marry  a  man  like  old  Wal- 
ton. Then  an  inspiration  dawned  upon  him,  and  he  turned 
to  Walton,  clapping  him  heartily  on  the  shoulder. 

"Well!  Why  shouldn't  you  get  married,  I'd  like  to 
know?"  he  demanded  as  though  that  privileged  had  been 
questioned  by  some  invisible  individual.  "A  man's  age 
ain't  to  be  reckoned  by  his  years.  No,  sirree !  I've  seed 
some  men  who  was  ready  to  die  of  old  age  when  they  was 
twenty-five,  and  I've  seed  others  that  was  young  when 
they'd  past  eighty.  Now,  no  one  would  ever  think  you  was 
a  day  over  forty,  Walton,  if  it  wasn't  for  that  air  white 
hair  and  beard  of  yourn." 

Walton  preened  foolishly  and  tried  to  look  incredulous, 
as  he  replied,  "Do  you  really  think  so,  Holy?" 

"Sure  thing!"  asserted  the  other. 

He  looked  contemplatively  at  Walton,  then  leaned  closer 
and  whispered,  "Say,  Walton,  why  don't  you  get  Dunning 
to  dye  your  hair  and  beard  before  the  girl  gets  here.  It'll 
make  a  difference  of  thirty  years  in  your  looks." 

Walton  hesitated.  "Maybe  I  will,"  he  temporized. 
"You  see,  I  sent  her  a  picture  of  myself,  but  it  was  taken 
when  I  was  about  twenty-five.  So  I  was  a  bit  worried  how 
she  would  act  when  she  found  I  was  not  so  young  as  she 
expected.  I  hadn't  thought  of  getting  my  hair  dyed, 
though.     It's  a  good  suggestion,  I  think." 

"You  bet  it  is!"  Holy  waxed  enthusiastic.  "Women 
is  queer  critters,  an'  a  young  and  pretty  woman  likes  the 
man  she  marries  to  be  somewhar  near  her  own  age.  She 
don't  want  to  risk  other  women  thinkin'  that  she  had  to  go 
to  an  01'  Man's  Home  and  kidnap  a  husband.  You  jest 
take  my  advice,  Walton,  an'  have  a  heart  to  heart  talk  with 
Dunning  right  away." 

"I'll  think  about  it,"  evaded  Walton,  as  Holy  with  con- 


76  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

gratulations,  parted  from  him,  knowing  Bronco  and  Roarer 
could  be  located  behind  the  swinging  doors  that  led  to  the 
bar-room  of  the  Willcox  Hotel. 

Holy 's  smiled  expanded  to  a  broad  grin  as  he  recognized 
his  friends  at  the  end  of  the  room  and  made  his  way  to 
them. 

"Thar's  somethin'  interestin'  goin'  to  be  cut  loose  if  you 
fellows  will  chip  in,"  he  announced  confidentially.  "Now, 
don't  waste  time  talkin'  or  askin'  fool  questions.  You  jest 
come  along  with  me  down  to  Dunning 's  and  fix  it  up  with 
him.    We  ain't  got  no  time  to  lose." 

Before  he  had  finished  speaking,  he  was  half-way  to  the 
door — the  other  two  close  at  his  heels.  Holy  vouchsafed 
no  explanations  for  his  mysterious  actions.  Hurrying 
down  the  street  they  entered  a  small  barber-shop  which  was 
unoccupied  save  for  the  owner.  Dunning  was  the  only 
barber  in  Willcox.     He  was  an  autocrat. 

A  chair,  facing  the  wall  on  which  was  a  fly-specked  mir- 
ror, a  row  of  wooden  seats,  and  a  conspicuous  placard  bear- 
ing the  pleasant,  but  misleading  fiction,  "Fresh  towle  for 
each  customer,"  constituted  the  furnishings  of  the  place. 
Dunning 's  hair  shone  glossy  brown;  his  moustache  curled 
tightly  as  a  pug  dog's  tail,  a  gorgeous  red  four-in  hand, 
tight,  grey  trousers  with  broad  black  stripes  made  him 
brilliantly  conspicuous  among  the  citizens  of  Willcox.  Be- 
tween shaves  and  haircuts  the  barber  delved  into  senti- 
mental fiction. 

With  reluctance  he  put  aside  a  yellow-backed  novel  and 
rose  leisurely  to  his  feet.  His  speculative  survey  was  in- 
terrupted by  Holy. 

' '  Say,  Dunning,  you  know  ol '  man  Walton, ' '  he  began. 

"Lived  round  here  fifteen  years,  never  had  his  hair  nor 
beard  cut  onct ; ' '  catalogued  Dunning.  ' '  So  derned  stingy 
that  he'd  skin  a  flea  to  get  its  hide  and  tallow!" 

"Mebbe  you'll  git  a  chanct  at  him  today;"  encouraged 
Holy.     "He's  goin'  to  git  married!" 

The  others  snorted  in  surprise,  and  Bronco  announced 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  77 

contemptuously,  "There  ain't  a  bunch  of  calico  in  Arizona 
that  would  let  him  near  enough  to  rope  her,  let  alone  carry 
his  brand." 

"Oh,  you  make  me  tired,"  Holy  retorted.  "Who  said 
he  was  workin'  any  Arizona  range?  The  girl's  comin' 
from  the  East  on  today's  train.  He  showed  me  her  pic- 
ture. I  give  him  a  fill  about  his  white  hair  makin'  him 
look  old,  and  said  he'd  ought er  get  Dunning  to  fix  him  up. 
Say ! — he  swallered  it  like  a  rattlesnake  swallers  a  gopher. ' ' 

"She  must  be  locoed,"  growled  Bronco,  suspiciously. 

"I  own  I  ain't  been  dazzled  by  the  charm  that  draws 
her,"  acknowledged  Holy,  "but  what  interests  me  is  that 
the  Diamond  H  owes  ol'  Walton  for  a  heap  of  things  he 
ain't  done.  Say,  Dunning,  there's  twenty-five  pesoes  for 
you,  if  you  fix  him  good  and  proper.  I  got  an  idee — but 
you  may  have  to  go  out  of  town  for  a  few  days. ' ' 

"That's  all  right.  Business  ain't  pressing.  I  figured 
on  goin'  out  prospecting  for  a  couple  of  weeks,  anyhow. 
If  any  of  the  boys  wants  a  hair-cut  they  can  wait  till  I  get 
back." 

"Say  Dunning,  stay  away  three  weeks,"  begged  Bronco. 
"I'll  make  it  thirty  dollars  if  you  do." 

It  was  not  solicitude  for  Dunning 's  safety  that  prompted 
this  request,  but  Bronco,  remembering  that  Dunning  was 
the  only  barber,  had  a  vision  of  the  entire  male  population 
of  Willcox  sporting  Rip  Van  Winklish  hair,  unless  their 
flowing  locks  were  mutilated  by  connubial  scissors  during 
Dunning 's  absence. 

"Thirty  goes,"  agreed  Dunning.  "Now,  what  is  it  you 
boys  want  done  ? ' ' 

Holy  explained,  interrupted  by  bursts  of  laughter  from 
Bronco  and  Roarer,  and  finally,  Dunning,  with  a  grin, 
ended  the  consultation  by  saying,  "You  fellers  get  him  in 
here  and  I  '11  earn  that  thirty. ' ' 


CHAPTER  EIGHT 

WALTON  left  Soto's  store  after  giving  orders  that 
his  purchases  be  ready  when  he  came  with  his 
wagon  at  four  o'clock,  then  he  walked  slowly 
down  the  street,  weighing  Holy 's  suggestion.  Vanity  strug- 
gled with  parsimony. 

He  reached  Dunning 's  shop  and  paused  uncertainly, 
without  suspicioning  three  pairs  of  eyes  that  peered  from 
a  small  window  in  the  hotel.  Dunning,  inside  the  shop, 
was  seemingly  oblivious  to  the  man  on  the  sidewalk  but 
looked  up  with  a  professional  smile  when  Walton  entered 
the  door. 

"Well,  Walton,"  Dunning's  attitude  was  almost  affec- 
tionate, ' '  What  can  I  do  for  you  ?  Shave '?  Hair  trimmed 
a  leetle  bit?  I  don't  wonder  you  kept  away  from  me  all 
this  time,  and  I'm  just  artist  enough  to  say  if  you  want  me 
to  cut  off  your  beard  or  hair,  I  won't  do  it  for  you  or 
nobody  else.  But  a  leetle  bit  of  trimming  would  improve 
it  lots." 

"I — Do  you  ever  dye  hair  or  whiskers,  Dunning?" 

"Sure;"  was  the  answer.  "I  guarantee  my  work  and 
mix  my  own  dyes,  and  you  'd  be  surprised  if  I  told  you  the 
names  of  people  I've  fixed  up.  But,  my  work  is  con- 
fidential. My  customers  trust  me  and  I  never  betray 
them." 

1 '  Well,  do  you  think  you  could  fix  mine  ' '  asked  Walton 
with  an  uneasy  smile. 

"Bet  your  boots!  Nothing  would  please  me  better. 
Now,  I  suppose  you'd  want  it  dark,  wouldn't  you?" 

"Black.  That's  what  it  used  to  be,"  Wxalton  replied. 
"But  how  long  will  it  take?" 

78 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  79 

The  barber  cocked  his  head  sideways,  squinted  an  eye 
critically,  then  walked  solemnly  around  Walton  several 
times,  and  finally  slipped  his  fingers  through  the  beard  and 
hair. 

"It's  a  fine  growth,"  he  announced.  "I  can  finish  it  in 
an  hour." 

"How  much  will  it  cost?"  Walton  paused  in  front  of 
the  chair  which  Dunning  was  adjusting  for  him. 

"Well,  I  usually  charge  fifteen  dollars  for  such  a  job, 
but  I'm  willing  to  do  it  for  five,  if  you  promise  not  to  let 
any  one  else  know  I  cut  the  price  to  you." 

"I  won't  give  over  three,"  asserted  Walton  firmly,  mov- 
ing to  the  door. 

Dunning,  fearing  flight  and  the  attendant  loss  of  the 
thirty  dollars,  followed  Walton  humbly. 

"Now,  see  here,  Walton,  why  can't  we  split  the  differ- 
ence? If  I  come  down  a  dollar,  you  can  sure  raise  one. 
I'll  do  a  first-class  job  for  four  dollars.  My  regular  price 
is  fifteen.  Why,  man  !  It  will  make  you  look  twenty  years 
younger ! ' ' 

Impervious  to  flattery,  Walton  kept  edging  nearer  the 
door. 

"Three  and  a  half,"  compromised  Dunning  desperately. 

' '  Three  dollars ; ' '  declared  Walton,  reaching  for  the  knob, 
but  watching  Dunning  sharply. 

"All  right,"  consented  the  barber.  "Three  dollars. 
But  don't  you  fool  yourself  into  believing  you  are  going 
to  get  an  everyday,  ordinary  dye.  It's  my  own  invention. 
Guaranteed  permanent  or  money  cheerfully  refunded.  Re- 
sults astonish  everybody." 

' '  Sure  you  will  get  it  done  by  train  time  ? ' '  asked  Walton 
anxiously,  as  Dunning  led  him  to  the  chair  and  deftly 
pinned  a  sheet  about  his  neck. 

Dunning  glanced  at  the  clock,  "Just  time  to  do  it  fine," 
he  assured  Walton,  who  stretched  out  luxuriously,  deter- 
mined to  get  his  three  dollars'  worth  as  far  as  possible. 
Dunning  was  engaged  in  mixing  various  liquids. 


80  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

" Going  on  a  trip?"  lie  asked,  standing  with  his  back  to 
"Walton  while  he  stirred  vigorously. 

"Not  exactly.  I'm  going  to  be  married.  The  young 
lady  will  arrive  on  the  west  bound  train,  and  we're  to  be 
married  at  once  and  go  out  to  the  ranch." 

"Well,  you  did  the  right  thing  in  coming  to  me,"  an- 
nounced Dunning,  as  he  finished  manipulating  the  concoc- 
tion. "That  white  hair  did  make  you  look  old,  Walton, 
and  I  often  wondered  why  you  didn't  touch  it  up  a  bit. 
I  bet  when  I  get  you  fixed  up,  that  she  won't  ask  how  old 
you  are.     Say,  I'll  stake  ten  dollars  on  that  bet." 

"Will  it  stay  black,  or  have  to  be  done  over  again?" 

* '  Guaranteed  permanent.  Only  way  to  remove  or  change 
the  colour  after  it  is  once  on,  is  keep  the  hair  shaved  close 
to  the  roots  for  six  months." 

Walton  twisted  nervously.  "I  wish  you'd  draw  down 
that  shade  and  lock  the  door.  I  don't  want  any  one  hang- 
ing around  while  you  are  busy." 

1  '  That 's  what  I  figured  on  doing, ' '  agreed  the  barber,  act- 
ing as  he  spoke ;  but  winking  at  the  boys  of  the  Diamond  H 
who  were  sauntering  past  as  the  shade  was  lowered. 

Walton  sank  back  with  a  sigh  of  relief.  The  silence  of 
the  dimly  lighted  room  and  the  movement  of  the  barber's 
hands,  had  a  soporific  effect  on  the  customer,  who  closed  his 
eyes  and  snored  peacefully,  while  Dunning  kept  a  wary  eye 
on  the  clock  until  he  heard  the  whistle  of  the  approaching 
train  from  the  East. 

"Better  hurry,  Walton!  Train's  pretty  near  the  depot, 
now.     I  just  got  done  in  time." 

Walton  waked  with  a  start  as  the  sheet  was  jerked  off, 
and  Dunning 's  voice  sounded  jubilantly  in  his  ears,  "Job's 
done  fine.     I'm  proud  of  you!" 

With  a  hasty  glance  at  the  small  mirror  in  the  dimly- 
lighted  room,  Walton's  blinking  eyes  saw  a  dark  flowing 
beard,  a  mass  of  dark  hair.  The  noise  of  the  train  warned 
that  time  was  precious  and  fleeting.     Thrusting  the  three 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  81 

dollars  into  Dunning 's  palm,  he  grabbed  his  hat  and  ran 
across  the  street  to  the  depot,  where  the  train  was  puffing 
to  a  stop. 

Walton  scanned  the  rows  of  windows  with  passengers 
looking  aimlessly  at  the  town.  Their  bored  faces  suddenly 
became  animated  with  smiles.  Walton  found  the  tourist 
sleeper,  where  he  saw  a  girl  in  a  grey  suit  on  the  platform 
of  the  car  descend  the  steps,  while  the  porter  helped  a  deli- 
cate-looking boy. 

The  bridegroom-elect  moved  more  swiftly,  and  reached 
the  girl  just  as  the  porter  shook  hands  with  the  child  and 
said,  " You '11  be  a  big  cowboy  before  long,  Ah  reckon;" 
then  the  train  went  on  its  way,  leaving  the  girl  looking 
about  nervously. 

Among  the  loiterers  at  the  depot,  Bronco,  Holy  and 
Roarer  glanced  at  each  other  in  consternation. 

"Good  Lord!"     "Holy,  that  ain't  the  girl,  is  it?" 

Holy  did  not  answer.  The  enjoyable  flavour  of  the  joke 
had  evaporated,  like  a  dose  of  castor  oil  in  orange-juice, 
and  a  decidedly  disagreeable  taste  remained.  Holy  ac- 
knowledged to  himself  only,  that  his  preconceived  idea  of 
the  picture  as  a  fake,  sent  to  old  man  Walton  by  an  unat- 
tractive, elderly  woman,  was  without  any  foundation. 
This  girl  was  much  prettier  than  the  photograph.  Any 
doubt  as  to  the  identity  was  dispelled  when  Walton  sallied 
up  to  the  girl  and  took  off  his  hat  with  an  elaborate  flour- 
ish. 

She  started  back,  her  frightened  eyes  travelling  slowly 
over  Walton's  hair  and  beard.  Meeting  that  prolonged 
glance,  he  attributed  it  to  his  fascinating  appearance,  and 
smirked  and  preened  consciously. 

"I'm  Montgomery  Walton,"  he  said  unctuously. 
"Everything  is  arranged  so  we  can  be  married  without  de- 
lay and  get  out  to  the  ranch  tonight.  The  Justice  of  Peace 
is  waiting  for  us." 

The  girl's  pretty  colour  faded  suddenly  as  she  saw  him 


82  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

pick  up  her  valise  with  an  air  of  proprietorship.  She 
looked  at  the  child,  took  a  step  toward  Walton — stopped, 
then  cried  out,  "No!     No!     I  can't  do  it!" 

Walton  scowled,  but  controlled  himself  and  said,  "You 
are  tired  from  your  long  trip  just  now,  I  know.  It  won't 
take  long  to  get  started  for  the  ranch  after  we  are  mar- 
ried." 

He  beamed  on  the  child,  "Come  along,  Sonny." 

The  boy  shrank  back,  clung  to  the  girl,  who  clutched  the 
thin  little  hand  and  looked  about  her  desperately.  Her  eyes 
swept  over  strange  faces,  rough-looking  men,  then,  like  an 
animal  at  bay,  she  ran  to  the  waitiug-room  with  the  child, 
and  slammed  the  door  violently.  Walton  stared  at  the 
closed  door,  then  at  the  valise  in  his  hand. 

The  listeners  outside  heard  hysterical  sobs,  and  the 
soothing  voice  of  Mrs.  Green,  the  agent's  wife.  Walton, 
pale  with  rage,  glared  at  the  grinning  faces  about  him, 
drew  himself  up,  entered  the  waiting-room  and  closed  the 
door  behind  him  with  a  bang.  The  mingled  sounds  of  a 
girl's  sobs,  a  woman's  angry  tones,  Walton's  voice  in  cres- 
cendo notes,  then  the  door  opened  and  he  dashed  out,  scat- 
tering those  who  obstructed  his  wildly  waving  arms,  and 
stopping  at  the  door  of  Dunning 's  shop.  It  was  closed.  A 
notice  hung  on  the  door.     "OUT  OF  TOWN." 

Walton  hurried  to  the  bar-room  of  the  Willcox  Hotel. 
His  face  was  aflame  with  rage;  the  hand  he  rested  on  the 
bar  was  shaking  as  though  with  palsy.  The  occupants  of 
the  room  grinned  at  him. 

"Them  the  latest  style  in  whiskers?"  joked  the  bartender, 
winking  at  another  man. 

"Mind  your  own  affairs  and  give  me  a  glass,"  ordered 
Walton. 

Purposely  misunderstanding  him,  the  barkeeper  held  out 
a  glass  of  liquor  and  said,  "You  seem  a  leetle  nervous, 
Walton." 

The  glass  was  struck  to  the  counter.  Walton  screamed  in 
maniacal  fury,  "A  looking-glass  is  what  I  want,  you  dog- 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  83 

gone  idiot!  I  want  to  gaze  on  my  'seraphic  countenance ' 
that  seems  to  paralyze  everybody.  Look  like  the  'green 
fields  of  Virginia/  do  I?  'Rent  me  out  during  a  drouth,' 
will  they?     Where's  a  glass?" 

"Keep  calm,  Walton,  here's  one;"  the  bartender  handed 
out  a  small  mirror. 

Silently  Walton  gazed  at  hair  and  beard  of  vivid  emerald 
green.  The  venomous  glitter  of  his  eyes  was  like  that  of 
an  angry  rattlesnake.  He  laid  the  glass  down  and  spoke 
with  a  voice  that  was  quiet,  but  deadly. 

"Some  one  put  Dunning  up  to  this,  and  I'll  find  out  who 
it  was,  before  I  get  through."  He  flung  out  of  the  place 
and  the  men  in  the  room  glanced  at  one  another.  They 
knew  that  some  day,  somebody  would  pay.  Walton  was  a 
man  whose  debts  of  personal  animus,  never  outlawed  by 
time,  were  sure  to  be  settled  in  full  with  compound  inter- 
est. 


CHAPTER  NINE 

4 *A  I  ^HE  boys  don't  mean  no  harm,  but  it  jest  seems 
§}  they  can't  come  to  town  without  things  hap- 
1  penin'  when  they  mix  in,"  Limber  had  said 
when  he  parted  from  Powell. 

The  cowpuncher  went  to  the  corral,  mounted  his  pony  and 
rode  down  the  railroad  track  to  the  shipping  pens.  The 
cattle  were  in  good  shape,  gates  fastened  securely.  No 
matter  what  the  short-comings  of  the  boys  of  the  Diamond 
H,  they  never  slighted  any  detail  of  the  work;  but  Limber 
felt  the  responsibility  of  it  all. 

When  Peanut  was  properly  cared  for,  his  master  ambled 
carelessly  along  the  street  until  he  reached  the  swinging 
doors  of  the  bar-room  of  the  Willcox  Hotel. 

"Any  of  my  outfit  here?"  he  asked  the  man  behind  the 
bar.  "I  jest  got  in  from  Hot  Springs  with  Doctor 
Powell." 

A  number  of  men  in  the  place  called  to  him,  others 
came  nearer  Limber  and  held  out  hands,  and  he  was  the 
centre  of  a  small  group  when  he  uttered  his  next  words. 

"The  Apaches  killed  ol'  Doctor  King  last  night  in  the 
Hot  Springs  Canon  below  the  Circle  Cross.  We  jest  brung 
in  his  body  for  the  Coroner." 

Exclamations  of  sincere  regret  were  voiced  by  his  hear- 
ers, for  each  of  them  could  recall  little  acts  of  kindliness 
to  himself  or  to  some  one  he  knew.  Limber  was  plied 
with  questions,  and  gave  the  meagre  details,  but  he  did 
not  speak  of  the  narrow  escape  of  Mrs.  Glendon  and  her 
child. 

Comments  were  interrupted  as  the  doors  swung  back 

84 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  85 

once  more.  Bronco,  Holy  and  Roarer  stood  bunched  to- 
gether and  surveyed  the  assemblage  with  brooding  eyes. 
Then,  they  saw  Limber.  Their  solemn  countenances  light- 
ened, and  Bronco  grasped  the  foreman's  arm,  leading  him 
to  a  table  at  the  rear  of  the  room,  where  they  all  slumped 
into  chairs.     Limber  studied  each  face. 

"Well,  what  have  you  done  this  time?"  he  asked  in  a 
resigned  voice. 

"Say,  Limber,  we're  in  a  hell  of  a  mess,"  confessed 
Bronco  abjectly.  The  other  two  punchers  confirmed  the 
assertion  by  silence.  "We  was  waitin'  for  you  to  get  us 
straightened  out,  someway." 

Limber  made  no  comment  until  the  situation  had  been 
fully  explained,  but  his  eyes  were  anxious  and  his  lips 
harboured  no  smile. 

"It  ain't  a  question  now  of  how  we  got  into  it,"  he  fin- 
ally said,  assuming  the  onus  of  the  episode  with  the  cul- 
prits, as  a  matter  of  course. 

They  had  slept  side  by  side  in  their  blankets,  bunkhouse 
and  range ;  had  shared  chuck  and  tobacco,  storms  and  fair 
weather,  and,  if  necessary,  each  would  have  used  his  last 
cartridge  in  defense  of  the  others.  "The  wust  of  it  was 
that  we  all  promised  the  Boss  not  to  stir  up  trouble  this 
time.  It's  all  right  about  Walton;  he  don't  count  in  this 
deal,  but  it's  damn  tough  on  the  woman.  I  don't  know 
what  to  do  about  it." 

"Gosh!  Limber,  we've  got  to  fix  it  up — someway," 
Bronco's  tones  were  desperate.  "If  we  don't,  the  whole 
bunch  of  women  in  this  yer  town  will  be  on  the  war-path 
after  our  scalps,  and  the  Diamond  H  outfit  will  be  huntin' 
new  ranges.  You  kin  lick  a  man  if  he  gits  fresh  and  sassy, 
but  when  a  petticoat  goes  on  the  rampage,  the  only  thing 
a  feller  kin  do  is  cut  and  run." 

"It's  because  a  woman  is  mixed  in  it  that  I'm  bothered," 
Limber  went  on.  "You  boys  know  the  Boss  will  stand  for 
pretty  near  anythin',  so  long's  thar  ain't  women  in  it. 
He's  been  pretty  plain  about  that,  and  it's  the  one  thing 


86  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

hell  fire  the  whole  bunch  for.  It's  the  worst  mix-up  we 
ever  got  into." 

The  foreman  looked  at  the  floor,  and  the  other  men  looked 
at  him.  Limber  knew  he  must  either  tell  the  truth  and 
clear  himself  in  the  eyes  of  Traynor,  or  remain  silent  and 
take  the  blame  with  the  others;  even  though  this  might 
mean  losing  his  job  as  foreman  of  the  Diamond  H.  His 
admiration  for  Traynor  was  deep  and  sincere.  It  hurt  to 
lose  Traynor 's  faith  in  him. 

''We're  sure  all  down  and  out/'  Holy's  voice  was  lugu- 
brious, and  he  let  the  cigarette  he  had  made,  fall  un- 
lighted  on  the  table. 

"I  jest  felt  that  if  you  were  turned  loose  on  the  range 
today  that  you  would  stampede.  I  didn't  figure  you'd  get 
here  so  quick  with  the  cattle,  and,  the  trouble  about  King 
kept  me  back.  I  wisht  I'd  got  here  sooner,  so's  to  round 
you  up  before  any  damage  was  done.  What  started  you, 
anyway,  Holy?" 

' '  I  thought  it  was  a  fake  picter  Walton  showed  me,  until 
I  seen  the  woman  get  off'n  the  train,"  responded  Holy 
feebly.  "Thar's  a  Kid,  too.  'Bout  five  or  six  years  old. 
Kinder  peaked  and  sickly  and  scarey." 

A  long,  low  whistle  was  Limber's  only  comment  on  this 
additional  complication. 

''She  looks  young  to  have  a  Kid  that  big,"  Bronco  put 
in,  "But,  then  you  can't  look  inter  a  woman's  mouth  to 
tell  her  age,  like  it  was  a  horse." 

Limber's  meditations  covered  many  moments,  but  neither 
Bronco,  Roarer  nor  Holy  interrupted  his  thoughts.  At 
last  he  looked  up,  and  they  leaned  across  the  table  hope- 
fully. 

"Thar  don't  seem  anythin'  to  do  exceptin'  ask  Mrs. 
Green  to  help  us  figure  it  out,"  was  his  decision. 

"Gee!  That's  just  the  medicine!"  agreed  the  rest  with 
alacrity,  nodding  at  each  other  in  happy  approval.  "You 
kin  sure  fix  it  up  with  her,  Limber,"  was  Holy's  verdict. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  87 

Limber's  grey  eyes  were  sombre  as  he  contemplated  the 
relieved  faces. 

"Yep!"  he  said  positively,  rising  as  he  spoke,  "It's  the 
only  thing  to  do.     Come  along." 

Consternation  eclipsed  the  smiles;  none  of  them  got  up 
from  their  chairs.  Limber  looked  at  them,  then  said, 
"Come  along." 

Slowly  the  chairs  were  pushed  back  with  a  loud  rasping 
noise;  slowly  the  sombreros  were  transferred  from  wooden 
pegs  above  the  table  to  the  heads  of  the  three  cowpunchers ; 
slowly  the  spurred  feet  moved  toward  the  door,  passed  drag- 
gingly  through,  it,  and  trailed  meekly  behind  Limber  until 
he  reached  the  rooms  above  the  depot,  occupied  by  the 
Agent  and  his  wife.  Limber  knocked.  The  cowboys' 
hearts  were  thumping  more  loudly  than  Limber's  knuckles, 
it  seemed  to  them. 

The  door  opened,  they  did  not  look  up,  but  the  feminine 
voice  that  bade  them  enter,  sounded  ominous.  With  eyes 
still  downcast,  and  hats  in  hands,  they  followed  Limber's 
heels.  They  saw  nothing  else  in  that  room  except  the 
rugs  on  the  floor.  Then  Limber's  voice  broke  the  deadly 
silence. 

"The  boys  say  they've  got  into  more  trouble  on  the 
range,  Mrs.  Green,"  Limber  said  soberly. 

"I  should  say  they  have,"  she  retorted  vehemently. 
"They  ought  to  be  ashamed  of  themselves,  putting  a  woman 
in  such  a  position  in  a  strange  place!  Making  her  the 
laughing  stock  of  the  whole  country!  She's  been  crying 
her  eyes  out,  ever  since  she  got  here.  And,  you  almost 
frightened  the  boy  to  death  with  your  idiot  ideas  of  fun! 
It  takes  a  big  brain  to  do  those  things ! ' '  she  paused  breath- 
lessly to  look  at  them  with  flashing  eyes. 

Not  one  of  the  Diamond  H  boys  would  have  hesitated  at 
any  danger,  but  now,  their  one  desire  was  to  scurry 
ignominiously  down  stairs  and  hit  the  home  trail  without 
delay.     They  cast  longing  eyes  at  the  door  that  led  to 


88  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

freedom  and  safety.  It  was  closed.  Between  them  and  it 
stood  an  angry  woman. 

"We  came  to  you  because  we  all  are  stampeded,  Mrs. 
Green,"  pleaded  Limber,  and  the  men,  hearing  the  in- 
criminating pronoun,  swore  allegiance  to  Limber  for  the 
rest  of  their  lives.  "Can't  you  get  us  headed  right,  some- 
how?" 

Mollified,  she  answered,  "What  had  you  thought  of  do- 
ing?" 

No  one  had  thought  of  anything,  but  they  were  all  loathe 
to  admit  it,  so  each  one  cudgelled  his  brains  vigorously. 

"Say,  so  long  as  we  busted  up  the  weddin',"  gasped 
Bronco,  "we'll  chip  in  and  refund  her  fare — ship  her  back 
in  a  box  car — I  mean — pay  her  way  to  whar  she  come  from. 
Won't  we,  boys?" 

"Sure!"  was  the  chorus. 

Now  that  the  ice  had  been  broken,  the  situation  was  less 
strained. 

"Derned — hanged — !  Oh,  say,  Mrs.  Green!  We'll  do 
any  damned  thing  you  say,  to  put  an  end  to  this  yer  dog- 
gone millin';"  floundered  Holy,  struggling  to  be  intelligi- 
ble without  profanity.  "We  never  figgered  it  would  buf- 
falo no  one  but  ol'  Walton,  and  to  Hell —  Oh,  shucks!  I 
mean  he  don't  count  noways!" 

Holy  paused  and  wiped  his  perspiring  face  with  a  red 
cotton  handkerchief  that  was  not  more  vivid  than  his  own 
complexion.  His  effort  had  been  heroic.  Mrs.  Green  rec- 
ognized it,  and  her  smile  refused  to  be  suppressed  longer. 
A  dimple  sneaked  into  her  cheek.  The  boys  breathed  more 
freely.  Dimples  didn't  frighten  them  very  badly,  unless 
one  of  them  was  alone  with  it. 

"Sit  down,"  suggested  Mrs.  Green,  "and  let's  talk  it 
over  together.     Maybe  we  can  work  out  the  trouble." 

Roarer,  Bronco  and  Holy  deposited  themselves  cau- 
tiously on  edges  of  chairs,  their  huge  hands  hanging  pa- 
thetically helpless  between  their  leather-clad  knees.     Their 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  89 

hats  decorated  the  floor  and  they  were  conscious  of  tousled 
heads. 

"You  see  it  all  came  through  the  child  being  delicate. 
Lung  trouble,  the  doctor  said,  and  Arizona  the  only  hope. ' ' 

"He  sure  does  look  peaked,"  Bronco  hastened  to  agree. 
If  Mrs.  Green  had  said  the  King  of  England  was  hiding  in 
the  kitchen  pantry  at  that  moment,  Bronco  would  have 
backed  that  statement  with  his  very  life. 

"Her  folks  are  all  dead,"  continued  the  Agent's  wife, 
"and  she  has  been  supporting  the  child.  It  took  all  the 
money  she  had  saved,  to  get  here. ' ' 

"That's  tough  luck,"  commented  Roarer  with  a  squeak 
of  emotion.  Then  startled  at  the  sound  of  his  own  voice, 
he  subsided. 

"She  has  got  to  stay  in  Arizona  on  account  of  the  child's 
health,"  Mrs.  Green  explained.  "Walton  answered  her 
advertisement  asking  for  a  place  where  she  could  work  in 
return  for  board  for  herself  and  the  child.  Nobody  else 
answered  her.  Then  he  proposed  marriage,  and  she  agreed. 
She  says  the  boy  means  more  to  her  than  her  own  life." 

"Well,  if  she  wants  to  marry  Walton,"  Limber  vol- 
unteered, "we'll  rope  him  and  get  her  brand  on  him  before 
you  can  wink,  and  you  tell  her  so  for  us.  But,  I  don't 
know  but  we'd  be  handin'  her  a  worse  deal  than  the  fust 
time." 

"I  told  her  what  kind  of  a  man  he  was.  She  never  wants 
to  see  him  again,"  Mrs.  Green's  voice  was  sharp,  hope 
seemed  to  die  in  the  breasts  of  the  four  men. 

"Well,"  Roarer's  tones  rose  shrilly  in  his  excitement  and 

ervousness,  "Do  you  think  any  of  us  'd  do  in  place  of 

ol'  Walton?     Seems  to  be  up  to  one  of  us  to  make  good. 

Of  course,  Limber  ain  't  in  on  this  deal ;  but  the  rest  of  us 

is,  ain't  we,  boys?" 

Weakly  the  rest  assented.  With  deliberate  cruelty  Mrs. 
Green  critically  surveyed  each  candidate  for  matrimonial 
honours.     Her  eyes  roved  slowly  from  their  heads  to  their 


90  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

boots,  while  their  ears  grew  red,  feet  shuffled  uneasily  and 
mouths  were  compressed  grimly.  Cost  what  it  might,  the 
boys  of  the  Diamond  H  were  going  to  see  the  trouble 
straightened  out.  The  clock  measured  two  minutes,  but  it 
seemed  two  hours  to  those  under  inspection. 

"I  don't  believe  that  would  be  the  remedy,"  she  con- 
cluded. The  men  sighed  with  unconcealed  relief,  and  each 
registered  a  vow  to  get  even  with  Roarer  later  on.  It 
had  been  a  close  shave.  The  agony  would  never  be  forgot- 
ten. 

"I  think  she  had  better  stay  with  me  until  she  finds 
work,"  offered  the  Agent's  wife.  "She  can  help  me  about 
the  place,  and  I've  got  some  sewing  I  want  to  finish 
up.  Then,  you  know,  I  have  to  help  Jack  a  good  bit  down 
in  the  office.  Meantime,  she  could  be  prospecting  for  a 
place  that  would  suit  her.  She  understands  housekeeping, 
cooking  and  has  been  employed  in  office  work.  So  it  won't 
be  long  before  some  one  will  snap  her  up,  out  here." 

Limber  nodded  and  said  gratefully,  "We  sure  are  much 
obliged  to  you,  Mrs.  Green,"  then  his  hand  was  thrust  into 
a  hip  pocket.  Had  Mrs.  Green  been  a  man,  she  might  have 
been  alarmed  at  the  movement,  but  the  hand  came  out 
clutching  crumpled  greenbacks.  "It's  up  to  the  Diamond 
H  outfit  to  look  out  for  her  till  she  gets  on  her  feet  good 
and  square,  and  we'll  sure  be  proud  to  do  it." 

"With  hasty  awkwardness  Holy,  Roarer  and  Bronco  added 
to  the  donation  Limber  laid  on  the  table,  glad  there  was 
something  at  last  that  could  be  done. 

"  I  'm  sure  we  can  get  things  straightened  out  before  long, 
some  way,  and  I  '11  do  all  I  can  to  help  her  and  you,  too ; " 
promised  the  woman. 

"I'll  talk  it  over  with  the  Boss  when  we  get  home," 
suggested  Limber. 

The  other  men  looked  at  him  quickly,  but  after  they  said 
"good-bye"  to  Mrs.  Green,  Limber  parted  from  them. 
They  sat  side  by  side  on  a  wooden,  backless  bench  in  front 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  91 

of  the  Willeox  Hotel,  and  discussed  the  situation  with  its 
new  angles. 

" Limber  ain't  to  blame,  and  we're  goin'  to  let  the  Boss 
know  it,  too — and  then  we'll  take  our  medicine  like  little 
men,"  was  Bronco's  ultimatum,  which  was  endorsed  by 
Holy  and  Roarer;  but  their  hearts  were  heavy  at  the  pros- 
pect of  being  "fired"  by  the  Boss  of  the  Diamond  H.  No 
other  ranch,  or  Boss,  or  foreman  would  ever  be  the  same 
to  them. 


CHAPTER  TEN 

LIMBER  started  the  boys  to  the  ranch  at  dawn,  to 
make  sure  they  would  be  safe  while  he  and  Doctor 
Powell  attended  the  inquest  over  King's  body. 

Holy,  Bronco  and  Roarer  reached  the  Diamond  H  with- 
out adventure,  and  after  earing  for  their  ponies,  grouped 
in  the  office  at  the  end  of  the  court-yard,  waiting  Traynor's 
advent. 

One  comprehensive  glance  told  him  that  something  had 
happened.  ' '  Trouble ' '  was  written  in  capital  letters  across 
each  face.  The  Boss  seated  himself  at  his  desk,  looked  up 
and  said,  ' '  What 's  the  matter,  boys  ?  Been  fined  for  shoot- 
ing up  the  town  again  ? ' ' 

1 '  Gee !  I  wisht  it  was  that, ' '  groaned  Bronco,  as  he 
dropped  astride  a  chair  with  his  arms  draped  over  the 
back. 

''Any  of  you  killed  any  one?"  the  voice  was  more  serious 
now. 

"Nope!  It's  our  funeral  this  time,"  squeaked  Roarer's 
falsetto. 

Traynor  twisted  about  and  looked  apprehensively  at 
them  all.  "Great  guns!  You  haven't  all  gone  and  gotten 
married,  have  you?" 

"It's  worser'n  that,"  Holy's  sepulchral  accents  boomed, 
"This  yer  damn  fool  outfit  has  been  an'  busted  up  a  wed- 
din ' !     That 's  all  we  done  this  time ! ' ' 

The  worst  was  over.  The  men  relaxed  and  waited  the 
effect  of  their  news. 

"Well,  go  ahead.  Tell  the  rest,"  ordered  Traynor 
curtly,  with  knit  eyebrows. 

92 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  93 

Interspersed  with  interruptions,  interjections  and  ges- 
tures, the  three  managed  to  acquaint  the  Boss  with  the 
situation.  When  their  story  ended,  he  said  very  sternly, 
"You  boys  know  that  I  am  always  ready  to  stand  by  you, 
but  I  gave  you  all  fair  warning  when  I  hired  you,  that  if 
you  got  into  any  trouble  or  mix-up  with  a  woman,  it  would 
mean  your  time.  I  certainly  never  anticipated  such  a 
scrape  as  this.     I'm  disgusted  with  you  all!" 

"We  knowed  that  before  you  said  it,"  Bronco  agreed 
meekly,  "but  what  we  want  to  make  plain  is — we  don't 
want  Limber  to  get  any  blame  for  what  we  done.  He 
wasn't  in  town  when  we  busted  loose.  But  Limber's  liable 
to  tell  you  jest  as  if  he  was  right  thar  hisself." 

"You  say  the  woman  is  looking  for  ranch  work?" 

"That's  what  Mrs.  Green  told  us,"  was  Bronco's  reply, 
reinforced  by  nods  from  the  other  two  men.  ''Says  she 
can  cook  an'  keep  house  and  sew  an'  work  in  a  orfiee,  an* 
Mrs.  Green  says  she  can  stay  thar  until  they  find  work  for 
her,  somewhars." 

Traynor  sat  looking  thoughtfully  at  the  paper-knife  he 
held  in  his  hand.  The  eyes  of  the  cowpunchers  also  stared 
at  the  paper-knife,  as  though  hoping  it  would  solve  their 
problem.  The  knife  dropped  on  the  desk  and  Traynor 
looked  up. 

"I'll  write  to  Mrs.  Green  and  tell  her  that  if  the  woman 
wants  to  bring  her  child  and  come  here  to  supervise  the 
house,  I  will  pay  her  seventy-five  dollars  and  board  her  and 
the  boy.  Fong  is  kicking  because  he  doesn't  like  the  house- 
work, and  if  I  get  a  Mexican  woman  to  come,  there's  got 
to  be  some  one  to  oversee  her.  This  is  the  only  daylight  I 
ian  see  in  the  muddle  you  have  made  of  things." 

'Say,  Mr.  Traynor,"  Bronco  leaned  over  the  desk  and 
spoke  earnestly,  "You  tell  her  to  say  we're  ready  to  lay 
down  in  the  corral  and  let  her  put  her  iron  on  us  without 
a  squeal." 

"An'  we're  all  halter-broke,  gentle  and  trained  to  feed 
from  the  hand,"  piped  Eoarer  over  Bronco's  shoulder. 


94  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Holy  joined  them.  "If  she  don't  find  things  pan  out 
]ike  she  wants  'em,  anytime,  all  she's  got  to  do  is  chaw  the 
rag  and  cuss,  an'  you  bet  your  sweet  life  this  yer  outfit  will 
see  that  she  gets  things  her  own  way." 

Bronco  and  Roarer  nodded  vehemently,  and  Holy  waxed 
more  eloquent.  "Tell  Mrs.  Green  if  she  acts  like  she's 
goin'  to  buck,  to  talk  her  into  tryin'  us  out.  You  know, 
we're  a  Hell  of  a  sight  better'n  we  look  or  act,  Mr.  Traynor. 
I'll  promise  to  put  hobbles  on  the  damn  cuss  words  the 
minute  she  gits  here." 

"All  right,  boys.  I'll  do  what  I  can,"  promised  Tray- 
nor. With  hopeful  expressions  they  trailed  through  the 
door,  but  halted  as  he  called,  "What's  her  name?" 

"Mrs. —  Mrs. — ,"  began  Bronco  confidently,  then  as  he 
saw  the  shaking  heads,  he  finished,  "Denied  if  we  know. 
None  of  us  ever  ast.  We'd  make  fine  cowpasture!  We're 
so  fresh  and  green!"  his  confession  wound  up  in  disgust. 

Left  alone,  Traynor  wrote  briefly  to  the  wife  of  the  Sta- 
tion Agent  at  Willcox. 

Dear  Mrs.  Green: 

I  understand  that  the  lady  who  is  with  you  is  looking  for 
employment  on  a  ranch.  I  would  be  glad  to  have  her 
assume  charge  of  the  house-keeping  at  the  Diamond  H. 

There  will  be  no  menial  labour.  A  Chinaman  does  the 
cooking  and  washing,  and  I  will  employ  a  Mexican  woman 
for  the  housework.  A  little  assistance  on  the  ranch  books 
would  be  of  great  value  to  me. 

I  will  pay  seventy-five  dollars  a  month,  with  room  and 
board  for  her  and  the  child. 

If  satisfactory,  will  you  write  me  by  next  stage,  and  I 
will  send  down  for  her  and  her  baggage. 

Kindly  state  that  I  regret  the  pranks  of  the  boys,  and 
hope  it  has  not  caused  any  serious  annoyance  to  you  or  her. 
They  wish  to  make  amends  in  any  manner  possible.  Their 
contrition  is  sincere,  and  so  are  my  apologies. 

Very  truly  yours, 
The  Unfortunate  Boss  of  the  Diamond  H. 


X 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  95 

Traynor  smiled  as  he  signed  the  letter,  knowing  that  Mrs. 
Green  and  her  husband  would  appreciate  the  humour  of 
the  situation  that  forced  the  Boss  of  the  Diamond  H  to 
employ  a  woman  for  the  first  time  on  the  ranch.  He  also 
sighed,  as  he  realized  it  would  mean  readjustment  in  many 
ways.  But,  he  was  resigned,  and  the  men  could  not  kick 
at  conditions  for  wrhich  they  were  responsible.  It  would 
be  a  relief,  though,  to  have  some  one  else  arrange  the  list 
of  provisions  when  necessary,  plan  menus,  and  order  new 
sheets  and  towels  as  needed. 

The  letter  was  delivered  to  the  stage-driver  Monday,  and 
an  answer  could  be  expected  on  Thursday  when  the  stage 
returned  from  Willcox.  So  when  Limber  and  Powell 
reached  the  ranch  that  evening,  the  dark  cloud  had  a  lovely 
silver  edge  that  promised  a  similar  lining. 

Thursday  morning  Traynor  and  Doctor  Powell  rode  to 
the  Cienega  Ranch,  four  miles  north  of  the  Diamond  H. 
The  Cienega,  named  because  of  the  marsh  formed  by  under 
ground  water,  was  one  of  the  many  smaller  watering  places 
belonging  to  the  Diamond  II.  A  man  usually  stayed  at 
these  points  to  see  that  the  ponds  and  troughs  were  kept  in 
shape  for  cattle  to  water.  The  idea  of  using  gasoline  en- 
gines instead  of  the  orthodox  Perkins  windmills,  wTas  an 
innovation  of  Traynor 's. 

Limber  and  the  boys  were  working  on  the  pasture  fences 
near  the  ranch  house,  when  the  stage  from  Willcox  passed. 
They  looked  at  it  speculatively  from  the  other  side  of  the 
eld. 

" Wonder  if  she's  wrote  that  she'll  come?"  Bronco's 
audible  question  voiced  the  thoughts  of  the  others ;  but  only 
the  return  of  the  Boss  could  answer  that  query. 

At  noon  the  men  dismounted  in  the  stable  just  as  the 
bell  that  hung  outside  the  door  of  the  men's  kitchen  rang 
loud  and  long.  No  time  was  lost  in  responding  to  the  sum- 
mons. It  was  music  in  their  ears  after  a  long  morning  in 
the  invigourating  air,  augmented  by  hard  work.  Fong's 
cooking  was  famous  throughout  Southern  Arizona. 


96  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Lunch  over,  they  sat  peacefully  side  by  side  on  the 
wooden  bench  against  the  wall  of  the  stable,  enjoying  the 
inevitable  wheat  straw  and  Durham  cigarette,  as  necessary 
as  a  pony  to  any  Arizona  puncher.  Fong  appeared  at  the 
door  of  the  men's  kitchen,  looked  across  at  the  group,  then 
ambled  over  and  adressed  the  foreman. 

"Bloss  no  dome  home  for  lunch,  maybe.  I  clatchee 
lunch  in  Bloss 's  dining-loom  or  I  clatchee  lunch  in  chuck- 
house  for  lady  and  lily  bloy?" 

The  men  started. 

"What  lady?"  demanded  Limber,  with  dire  foreboding. 

"Lady  dome  on  stage.  Lily  bloy  dome,  allee  samee. 
Glo  in  parlour." 

"Good  Lord!"  ejaculated  Bronco.  "She  ain't  writ,  she 
come !  An'  yer's  the  Boss  and  Doctor  Powell  gone  off  and 
left  us  all  alone ! ' ' 

Fong's  grin  of  comprehension  was  irritating,  and  Limber 
ordered,  "Fix  lunch  in  the  Boss's  dining-room,  and  fix  a 
good  one  while  you're  about  it,  too." 

The  Chinaman  hurried  to  obey.  He  had  made  a  scien- 
tific study  of  Limber's  face  and  voice.  Fong  liked  the 
work  at  the  Diamond  H ;  he  also  like  the  generous  wages  and 
not  having  to  skimp  in  anyway. 

Limber  turned  to  the  rest.  "Well,  I  guess  it's  up  to  us 
to  go  in  and  squar  things  with  her, ' '  he  announced.  i '  She's 
been  sitting  thar  for  two  hours  now,  an'  nobody  gone  near 
her.     Darn  that  Chink,  anyway!     Come  along,  boys." 

Anxious  to  make  amends  for  their  many  sins  of  commis- 
sion and  omission,  they  clanked  with  spurred  heels  along  the 
cement  walk  of  the  court  and  followed  Limber  into  the 
living-room  of  the  ranch.  Then  they  stopped,  bunched  in 
the  doorway. 

A  slender  figure,  with  rippling  brown  hair,  was  huddled 
forlornly  in  a  big  chair,  asleep.  The  flushed  cheeks  bore 
traces  of  recent  tears.  Hat,  gloves  and  a  child's  cap  were 
in  her  lap,  a  suit-case  on  the  floor  beside  the  chair,  as  though 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  97 

in  readiness  for  departure.  On  the  couch  was  the  boy;  but 
his  eyes  were  wide  open. 

As  he  saw  the  four  cowpunchers  in  the  doorway,  he 
shrank  back  timidly  and  reached  out  his  thin  hand.  The 
girl  woke  instantly.  She  did  not  see  the  men  until,  as  they 
advanced  into  the  room,  Holy's  foot  collided  with  the  leg 
of  a  chair,  and  he  suppressed  an  ejaculation.  The  girl 
flushed  with  embarrassment  as  she  faced  the  four  cowpunch- 
ers of  the  Diamond  H. 

None  of  them  spoke.  She  rose  to  her  feet  and  looked 
from  one  to  the  other,  uncertain  whom  to  address,  as  she 
said,  "Mrs.  Green  told  me  of  your  generous  offer.  I  did 
not  wait  to  write,  but  came  up  on  the  stage  this  morning ; ' ' 
her  voice  was  low  and  tremulous.  * '  I  thank  you  with  all  my 
heart.  It  means  so  much — to  me.  I — will  do — my  very 
best  to  please  you  all, ' '  her  last  words  came  with  a  rush. 

No  answer  was  made  by  the  four  ominous  figures  con- 
fronting her.  An  expression  of  fear  crept  into  the  blue 
eyes  that  dimmed  with  tears.  Her  hands  went  out  in  ap- 
peal. 

"Please,  please,  don't  say  that  I  won't  suit  you.  I  am 
a  great  deal  stronger  than  I  look,  and  I  'm  not  afraid  of 
hard  work.  Jamie,"  her  arm  went  about  the  child  at  her 
side,  "won't  bother  any  one,"  the  pitiful  catch  in  her 
voice  seemed  to  grip  the  throat  of  each  man,  and  the 
words  they  wanted  to  utter  refused  to  make  a  sound.  The 
girl  read  the  pity  in  Limber's  grey  eyes,  then  the  fore- 
man smiled  at  her  and  said  in  his  quiet,  kindly  voice; 
"Thar  ain't  no  reason  for  you  to  worry.  We  was  jest 
scairt  that  you  wouldn't  want  to  stay.  That's  all.  We 
didn't  know  you  was  here  till  Fong  told  us  jest  now.  He's 
fixin' lunch  for  you.  I'm  jest  Limber,  the  foreman."  He 
turned  and  indicated  the  other  punchers  who  were  trying 
to  smile  naturally,  but  making  a  terrible  contortion  of 
facial  muscles.  "This  is  Bronco,  and  Roarer  an'  Holy, 
and  we  're  the  Diamond  H  outfit. ' ' 


98  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Awkwardly  the  men  advanced  and  held  out  calloused 
hands,  but  the  grip  was  a  pledge  of  fealty,  and  the  girl 
looked  gratefully  into  their  eyes. 

Then  Limber  happened  to  note  Traynor  standing  in  the 
open  doorway  back  of  the  girl,  and  relief  shown  plainly 
in  the  foreman's  face  as  he  said,  "Thar's  the  Boss,  now." 

She  whirled  sharply,  like  a  tormented  creature  at  bay, 
sensing  a  new  enemy.  Traynor 's  face  was  drawn  and  white 
through  its  tan.  Unmindful  of  the  men,  his  hands  reached 
out.  The  girl  stared  incredulously.  Then  the  tension  was 
broken  by  their  two  voices : 

"Nell!" 

"Allan!" 

The  cowpunchers'  jaws  fell  in  astonishment,  their  eyes 
popped,  then  with  one  accord  they  fled  precipitately,  jost- 
ling each  other  through  the  doorway.  Limber  was  the  last 
one  to  leave  the  room.  He  lost  no  time,  but  he  saw  the 
arms  of  the  Boss  of  the  Diamond  II  holding  a  sobbing  girl. 
When  Limber  reached  the  stables  there  was  only  a  cloud 
of  dust  to  show  that  the  boys  were  anxious  to  finish  up 
very  important  work  away  from  the  vicinity  of  the  ranch 
house. 

They  did  not  know  of  the  consultation  between  Traynor 
and  Limber  an  hour  later,  nor  that  Limber  had  driven 
down  to  Eureka  Springs,  eight  miles  away,  and  returned 
accompanied  by  Mrs.  Burns,  wife  of  the  owner  of  that 
ranch. 

Just  before  supper  the  foreman  found  the  men  in  the 
bunk-house.  They  looked  up  at  him  with  hopeless  faces, 
as  he  surveyed  them  and  remarked,  "Well,  you  sure  mixed 
things  up  good  and  plenty  that  time!" 

"Oh,  you  don't  have  ter  tell  us  that,"  retorted  Bronco, 
despairingly.     "We  all  knowed  it  without  anyone's  help!" 

"I  wisht  someone'd  put  me  in  a  lunitic  asylum  for  the 
rest  of  my  life,"  was  Holy's  disgusted  announcement. 
He  stared  at  the  whitewashed  wall  of  the  bunkroom,  vision- 
ing  his  possible  future  domicile. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  99 

"We  figgered  we'd  got  it  all  fixed  up  fine,  an'  you  know 
it  was,  Limber,  till  the  Boss  butted  in.  How'd  we  know 
that  he  knowed  her,  anyway?  Well,  now  thngs  is  millin' 
worser'n  ever;"  "Bronco's  voice  was  almost  unrecognizable 
in  its  woe.     "Say,  Limber,  are  we  all  fired?" 

Limber  seated  himself,  took  out  his  sack  of  tobacco  and 
papers,  rolled  a  cigarette  and  lighted  it,  without  one  word. 
His  face  was  serious.  Six  mournful  eyes  watched  him. 
They  read  their  fate  in  his  silence.  There  was  no  appeal. 
In  a  corner  of  the  bunk-room  three  rolls  of  blankets  were 
stacked.  Limber  looked  at  them,  but  said  nothing.  Three 
hands  went  to  hip  pockets.  In  dead  silence  three  cigarettes 
were  made  and  lighted.  It  was  a  cowboy  wake.  Five 
minutes  went  by.  They  smoked  and  sank  more  deeply  in 
gloom. 

"Of  course,  we  kin  get  jobs  somewhar,"  Bronco  spoke 
at  last.  "That  ain't  what's  troublin'  me.  But  it's  how 
we  went  and  made  such  a  mix-up  for  the  Boss,  when  he's 
always  been  so  white  to  us  all.  I  can't  figger  how  he's 
goin'  to  get  it  straight  for  hisself,  now!" 

Limber  studied  the  cigarette  in  his  hand.  "He  said 
thar's  only  one  thing  left  that  you  all  kin  do,  now." 

"We  knowed  we  was  fired,  Limber,  "Roarer's  voice  was 
a  higher  pitch  than  ever  before,  "You  don't  have  to  tell 
us.  Thar  warn't  anythin'  left  for  him  to  do  but  fire  the 
whole  bunch  of  us.  We  bin  an'  got  our  war-bags  all 
packed  up  and  ready." 

"But,  we're  derned  sorry  we  made  this  mess  for  you  and 
him  and  the  lady,"  Holy  was  now  on  his  feet,  picking  up 
a  roll  of  blankets  from  the  corner.  He  slung  it  over  his 
shoulder  and  held  out  his  hand  to  the  foreman.  ' '  It  hurts 
like  Hell  to  go." 

Bronco  and  Roarer  with  their  own  rolls,  lined  beside 
Holy. 

"Tell  the  Boss  'so  long'  for  us,"  was  Bronco's  request. 
"And,  we're  damned  sorry  for  it  all." 

Limber  looked  at  the  three  outstretched  hands,  the  three 


100  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

dejected  figures  with  the  rolls  of  blankets  across  their 
shoulder,  then  said,  "He  told  me  that  the  only  way  you 
boys  kin  squar  things  is  for  the  whole  outfit  to  meet  him 
tomorrow  night  at  Mrs.  Green's  place  at  eight  o'clock." 

"What  fur?"  they  three  inquired  in  startled  tones,  as 
their  hands  fell  weakly  at  their  sides. 

"Well,"  drawled  Limber,  as  a  twinkle  lit  up  his  eyes  and 
his  mouth  twitched  with  a  smile,  "Thar's  goin'  to  be  a 
weddin'!  The  Boss  says  that  the  only  thing  left  for  him 
to  do  with  you  boys,  is  to  let  the  little  Lady  run  this  yer 
outfit  and  keep  it  straight!  He  owns  up  it's  too  much  of 
a  job  for  him  to  handle ! ' ' 

Three  rolls  of  blankets  dropped  with  dull  thuds  to  the 
bare  floor.  Three  wild  yells  broke  the  quiet  air,  then  with 
arms  intertwined  about  each  other 's  shoulders,  they  formed 
a  circle  and  indulged  in  an  Apache  war-dance.  A  smile 
that  was  almost  paternal  illuminated  Limber's  face  as  he 
watched  them. 

When  the  exuberance  had  subsided  a  bit,  and  they  had 
finished  ejaculating  and  slapping  each  other  on  the  back, 
Bronco  turned  to  Limber. 

1 1  Say,  Limber,  this  is  the  wust  mix-up  of  all !  Here 
we  go  and  stampeded  the  heifer  what  Walton  figgered  on 
ropin'  for  hisself,  and  she  turns  an  busts  into  the  home 
corral  with  the  Diamond  H  brand  on  her !  Can  you  beat 
it?" 

No  one  answered. 

The  clamour  of  the  supper  bell  brought  them  to  their 
feet  once  more,  and  they  hurried  to  the  chuck-house, 
talking  as  fast  as  they  could.  All  talked  at  once;  no  one 
replied  or  listened,  but  it  was  a  happy  ,  bunch  of  cow- 
punchers  that  slid  along  the  wooden  bench  at  the  supper- 
table  that  night. 

Back  on  the  floor  of  the  bunk-house  lay  three  rolls  of 
blankets  waiting  for  the  men  to  stumble  over  them  in  the 
dark. 


CHAPTER  ELEVEN 

UNUSUAL  excitement  was  evident  in  the  Willcox 
Hotel,  as  the  cowpunchers  of  the  Diamond  H 
rushed  in  with  mysterious  packages  which  after- 
wards developed  into  conventional  attire.  They  had  ridden 
to  town  early  in  the  afternoon,  Saturday,  the  day  the 
wedding  of  the  Boss  was  to  take  place. 

Confusion  reigned  in  their  small  room.  Roarer  danced 
around,  struggling  to  fasten  a  collar,  his  face  becoming 
apoplectic;  while  Holy,  with  his  entire  vocabulary  and 
muscular  strength,  was  coaxing  his  feet  into  patent  leather 
shoes  a  size  too  small.  When  his  frantic  efforts  culminated 
in  a  broken  loop-strap,  it  left  him,  for  once  in  his  life, 
speechless. 

Before  a  bilious  mirror,  Limber  plastered  his  hair  down 
rigidly  with  a  stick  of  barber's  cosmetique,  recommended 
by  the  bar-tender;  and  Bronco  stood  ruefully  contemplat- 
ing four  enormous  pairs  of  white  kid  gloves  reposing  in  a 
long  row  on  the  bed. 

"I  don't  balk  at  toggin'  up  swell  for  the  Boss's  weddin'," 
came  in  a  gasp  from  Roarer  as  he  clutched  at  his  throat, 
"but  derned  if  I  see  why  the  feller  what  invented  collar- 
buttons  and  biled  shirts  wasn  't  lynched  for  his  fust  offense. 
Doggone  the  beastly  little  contraption,  anyhow!" 

The  others  regarded  him  sympathetically,  for  they,  too, 
had  struggled,  as  the  numerous  twisted,  soiled  collars  about 
the  room  testified;  even  those  now  decorating  their  brown 
throats  showed  marks  of  desperate  fray. 

"I've  spiled  seven  collars  and  busted  five  collar  buttons 
already,"  groaned  Roarer,  pausing  in  his  struggle.     "Oh, 

101 


102  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Lord!  Where  did  that  thing  go.  Any  one  see  it?  It's 
wnsser  'n  a  flea  the  way  it  lit  out." 

They  grasped  his  meaning.  Each  had  recently  been  on 
a  voyage  of  discovery  for  other  collar  buttons. 

"Mebbe  it's  under  the  bed,"  suggested  Holy,  trying  to 
balance  himself  and  walk  in  the  tight  shoes.  He  paused, 
standing  like  a  gigantic  stork  on  one  foot.  "Mine  rolled 
under  the  bed." 

Roarer  fell  to  his  knees  and  groped  without  avail,  then 
crawled  out  on  all  fours,  gazing  up  disconsolately  into  the 
faces  of  the  other  men.  "Not  a  hair  nor  a  hide  of  it,"  he 
puffed,  still  on  his  knees.  "That's  the  last  one  we  had, 
and  what's  wust,  thar  ain't  no  more  collar-buttons  in  the 
whole  blamed  town.  Everyone's  been  buyin'  'em  this 
afternoon. ' 

"Well,  it  couldn't  get  outen  the  room;"  consoled 
Limber,  whose  toilet  was  finished  before  the  others,  because 
he  had  had  the  foresight  to  enlist  the  services  of  a  clerk 
in  Soto's  store,  and  after  buying  a  shirt,  collar  and  tie, 
the  two  had  retired  to  a  small  back  room.  Hence,  Limber 
had  emerged  victorious  and  unruffled,  but  his  sympathies 
were  with  the  other  punchers. 

"They  say  collar-buttons  take  to  a  bureau  if  the  bed 
don't  suit  'em,"  he  suggested.  "Suppose  you  start  a 
round-up  on  that  range,  Roarer.  I'd  like  to  help  you  out, 
but  this  collar  checks  me  up  too  high." 

Inspired  by  the  idea,  Roarer  assumed  his  devotional 
attitude  and  clawed  wildly.  Something  gave  way,  and  he 
emerged  precipitately. 

"I  got  her,"  he  triumphed,  "but  something  busted — 
What  was  it?"  he  supplemented  with  an  anxious  glance 
over  his  shoulder. 

The  others  surrounded  him. 

' '  Suspender, ' '  reported  Limber.  ' '  Button 's  busted  off  'n 
your  trousers." 

"Much  damage?"  he  inquired  of  the  investigating  com- 
mittee, which  continued  looking  him  over. 


THE  LON.G  DIM  TRAIL  103 

"Nothin'  but  what  can  be  fixed  up  wth  a  pin,"  was 
Bronco's  decision.     ''Any  one  got  a  pin?" 

They  shook  their  heads.  It  was  a  pinless  crowd,  but  a 
brilliant  idea  struck  Holy,  who  delved  into  the  pockets  of 
his  discarded  leather  chaps  and  produced  a  horse-shoe  nail. 
Drawing  a  piece  of  the  trouser  cloth  through  the  button- 
hole of  the  suspended  flap,  he  thrust  the  nail  in  dexterously. 

1 '  Thar  you  are, ' '  he  pronounced  cheerfully. 

"Say,  Holy,  you're  a  wonder!"  flattered  Roarer  obse- 
quiously. 

Holy  grinned  at  him  and  demanded,  "What  do  you 
want  me  to  do  for  you  ? ' ' 

Roarer's  childish  accents  pleaded,  "Can't  you  help  me 
get  into  this  collar?  It's  the  only  one  we  got  left  that's 
fitten  to  put  on,  and  it  ain't  big  enough  for  this  shirt,  nor 
me,  neither,  but  I  've  got  to  get  into  it  somehow. ' ' 

Holy  inspected  the  dilemma.  "I'll  go  see  if  I  kin  find 
something,"  he  said  vaguely  as  he  left  the  room.  In  a  few 
minutes  he  returned. 

"I  got  a  button-hook  off'n  the  chambermaid.  We  can 
fix  it  up  now ! ' ' 

Surrounded  by  an  admiring  group,  he  grasped  the  collar 
band  of  Roarer's  shirt,  thrust  the  button-hook  through  the 
button-hole  of  the  collar  and  gave  a  vigorous  twist. 

An  agonized  squeal,  like  a  dying  pig,  assaulted  the  air  and 
Roarer  retreated  rapidly  with  the  button-hook  hanging  to 
the  collar,  while  he  rubbed  the  prominent  bone  in  his 
throat  that  had  interfered  with  the  adjustment. 

"What  in  thunder  do  you  think  you're  doin'?"  he 
piped,  glaring  at  Holy.  "Looks  like  you  was  figgerin'  to 
make  cider  outen  my  Adam's  apple,  the  way  you  squoze." 

"Well,  I  done  the  best  I  knowed  how,"  defended  Holy. 
"That's  the  way  things  goes.  I  pulled  an  ol'  Bar  Z 
cow  outen  the  mud,  and  the  fust  thing  the  durned  cow  done 
was  to  make  a  bee-line  for  me  whilst  I  had  my  back  to  her 
a  cinchin'  my  saddle.  She  spiled  the  only  pair  of 
trousers  I  owned,  and  then  went  back  into  the  mudhole 


104  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

and  died.  Thar's  a  heap  of  human  nature  in  cows,  and 
heaps  of  cow  nature  in  humans !  Here's  the  button-hook." 
Holy  rescued  it  from  the  floor  where  it  had  dropped  as 
Roarer  massaged  his  throat.  "You  dig  yourself  outen 
your  own  mud-hold.     I'm  done!" 

He  limped  painfully  across  the  room  and  dropped  into  a 
chair,  the  picture  of  disgust,  and  watched  with  fishy  eye 
as  Roarer  plied  the  button-hook  until  the  collar  succumbed. 

The  agony  was  almost  over,  but  the  four  pairs  of  gloves 
promised  further  trouble. 

"Say,  Bronc,"  insinuated  Roarer  as  he  contemplated 
the  bed,  "Couldn't  a  feller  go  without  wearin'  these  derned 
things?  Suppose  we  just  put  'em  in  the  outside  pockets 
of  our  coats  and  let  the  fingers  hang  out,  to  show  we  got 
'em?" 

"No,  sirree!"  vetoed  Bronco  emphatically,  in  the  self- 
assumed  role  of  social  adviser.  "There  ain't  nothin'  too 
good  for  the  Boss ;  and  the  boys  down  to  the  store  told  me 
that  white  kid  gloves  has  got  to  be  wore  at  weddin's.  So 
them  gloves  has  got  to  go  on,  if  it  busts  us  flat!" 

With  looks  of  grim  determinaton  and  the  spirit  that 
inspired  the  'noble  Six  Hundred,'  they  swooped  down  on 
the  gloves.  Appropriating  a  pair,  each  man  settled  him- 
self on  a  chair.  The  room  was  silent.  Moments  passed 
unheeded.  Four  struggling  cowpunchers  sat  in  four  creak- 
ing chairs  and  laboured  until  four  pairs  of  huge  hands 
were  encased  in  bedraggled  white  kid  gloves,  which  the 
owners  surveyed  with  triumph. 

"They  squinch,"  announced  Holy,  closing  his  hand 
convulsively,  "but  they'll  stretch  if  you  work  'em  a  bit." 

There  was  an  ominous  sound,  and  a  look  of  consterna- 
tion on  Holy's  face  as  he  gazed  at  the  split  glove  on  his 
left  hand. 

"Now,  you'll  have  to  get  another  pair,"  commanded 
Bronco. 

"Hanged  if  I  will,"  retorted  Holy,  rebelling  at  the  pros- 
pect of  repeating  his  experience. 


t 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  105 

"Then  you  got  to  remember  to  keep  your  hand  shet  up," 
compromised  Bronco.  "Lucky  it's  the  left  hand,  because 
we  all  got  to  shake  hands  with  the  bride  and  the  minister 
you  know." 

"Say,  Bronc,  are  you  sure  about  the  minister?"  asked 
Limber  dubiously. 

"You  bet!  You  see  it's  this  way,"  elucidated  Bronco. 
"The  groom  is  in  luck  to  get  the  girl,  ain't  he?  So  you 
shake  hands  with  him.  The  girl's  lucky  to  get  married, 
ain  't  she,  stead  of  dyin '  an  old  maid  ?  So  you  shake  hands 
with  her ;  and  the  minister  is  the  luckiest  one  of  the  bunch, 
because  he  gets  paid  for  marryin'  them  and  he  don't  take 
no  chances  on  havin'  trouble  afterwards.  That's  why  you 
have  to  shake  hands  with  the  minister." 

No  one  disputed  the  logic. 

"People  makes  me  think  of  flies  in  cold  weather  when 
it  comes  to  gettin'  married,"  reflected  Limber  audibly. 
"The  flies  that's  outside  the  window  keep  tryin'  to  get  in, 
and  them  that's  inside  keep  workin'  for  all  they're  wuth 
to  get  out.  Looks  like  they're  just  bound  to  be  miserable 
either  way." 

"I  knowed  a  feller  down  in  Texas  had  two  dogs  named 
David  and  Jonathan,"  said  Bronco.  "Wherever  you  seen 
one  dog  the  other  was  right  along  side  of  him,  like  his 
shadder.  You  jest  couldn't  keep  'em  apart.  One  day  some 
smart  geezer  seen  'em  sleepin'  peaceful  an'  ca'm,  side  by 
each,  and  tied  one  of  David's  hind  legs  to  one  of  Jonathan's, 
and  when  them  dogs  woke  up  they  blamed  each  other,  and 
from  cussin'  something  awful  in  dog  lingo,  they  lit  in  and 
chawed  hair  and  hide  till  they  was  pried  apart.  Ever 
ince  then  the  minute  they  see  each  other,  it's  just  a  signal 

r  them  to  start  a  free-for-all  to  a  finish.  The  way  them 
two  dogs  has  soured  on  each  other  is  a  caution. ' ' 

"What's  that  got  to  do  with  gettin'  married?"  de- 
manded Holy  with  a  snort? 

Bronco  gazed  at  him  a  few  seconds  before  he  answered, 
"Well  there's  lots  of  folks  that  would  be  good  friends  all 


106  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

their  lives  if  they  didn't  hunt  up  a  minister  to  marry  'em 
and  give  'em  the  right  to  scrap  till  they  die.  When  David 
and  Jonathan  got  too  serious,  somebody  got  a  club.  But 
if  you  find  a  man  and  his  wife  scrappin'  and  you  try  to 
ca'm  them,  they  both  turn  and  pitch  into  you  for  meddiin' 
with  their  family  pleasures." 

Limber  took  out  his  watch  and  announced  it  was  time  to 
start,  and  Bronco,  after  a  final  survey  of  his  charges,  led 
the  procession  from  the  chamber  of  torture.  They  crossed 
the  street,  holding  their  hands  stiffly  at  their  sides,  while 
each  gloved  finger  stood  out  separately,  like  an  individual 
Declaration  of  Independence. 

As  they  ascended  the  stairs  leading  to  Mrs.  Green's 
rooms,  Bronco  whispered  his  last  instructions,  "Don't 
forget  to  shake  hands  with  the  whole  outfit;  and  you  be 
careful  Holy,  to  keep  your  left  hand  shet." 

Holy,  leading  the  procession,  halted  suddenly  and  called 
back  to  Bronco,  "I  thought  you  said  we  was  only  to  shake 
hands  with  the  Boss  and  the  Little  Lady  and  the  gospel- 
shark,"  but  as  the  door  opened  in  front  of  them,  Bronco 
made  no  reply. 

The  room  was  filled  with  guests,  and  after  the  first  wave 
of  bashfulness  had  receded,  the  Diamond  H  boys  bunched 
together  like  a  herd  of  scared  cattle.  Doctor  Powell  crossed 
the  room  and  joined  them,  then  Mrs.  Green  entered  with 
Jamie,  the  little  brother  of  the  bride.  Powell  smiled  and 
the  child  shyly  edged  closer,  until  he  was  lifted  to  the 
doctor's  knee.  There  was  a  slight  confusion.  Traynor 
stepped  to  a  space  in  front  of  the  minister,  and  the  doctor, 
rising,  consigned  the  child  to  Limber,  then  advanced  to  his 
place  beside  Traynor. 

The  cowboys  of  the  Diamond  IT  fidgeted  nervously,  and 
wondered  at  the  Boss's  calm  appearance,  noting  with 
proprietory  pride  how  handsome  he  looked  and  how  high 
he  held  his  head.  There  was  a  tender  smile  on  his  lips 
and  his  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  door  leading  to  the  hallway. 

Bronco  leaned  closer  to  Holy,  whispering,  "I  bet  he 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  107 

don't  even  know  he's  got  a  collar  on.  Ain't  some  men 
lucky?" 

"Shet  up,"  boomed  Holy's  voice  treacherously,  and 
many  heads  turned  toward  them,  while  Holy  tried  to 
efface  himself  behind  Roarer  and  Bronco. 

The  door  leading  to  the  hall  opened  and  Jack  Green  came 
in  with  Nell  on  his  arm.  The  women's  eyes  became 
moist  as  they  looked  at  the  girl,  and  the  men  silently  voted 
Allan  Traynor  a  lucky  chap.  Mrs.  Green  had  dressed  the 
girl  in  a  pretty  white  gown,  and  the  real  wedding  veil  that 
floated  about  the  slender  form  was  the  one  that  had  been 
worn  ten  years  previous  by  the  agent's  kind-hearted  wife. 

Outside,  a  mocking  bird  sang  in  the  wonderful  Arizona 
moonlight,  as  though  it  understood  and  sent  its  benison  of 
love  while  the  solemn  words  were  spoken.  Traynor  stooped 
and  kissed  the  girl,  whose  eyes  looked  into  his  with  a 
dazzling  light  that  shone  through  tears,  like  the  sun  break- 
ing through  a  mist. 

"Till  Death  us  do  part,"  he  repeated  unsteadily. 

Then  Jamie  was  beside  them,  holding  up  his  thin  arms 
to  his  sister,  who  kissed  him  tenderly.  The  boy  turned 
uncertainly  to  Traynor,  looked  up  at  him,  and  laughed 
gayly  as  he  was  caught  by  the  man 's  strong  hands  and  held 
up  a  second,  while  Traynor  said,  "You've  got  a  grown-up 
brother,  now,  old  man. ' ' 

Beaming,  Jamie  slipped  his  hand  into  Nell's  and  stood 
beside  them  as  the  guests  showered  congratulations  on  the 
couple. 

Bronco  marshalled  the  Diamond  H  boys  in  line  and 
Traynor  suppressed  his  inclination  to  laugh  at  the  unac- 
customed regalia  of  store  clothes,  'biled  shirts'  and  white 
kid  gloves,  when  the  men  held  out  their  hands  to  the  bride 
and  groom. 

Holy,  recalling  Bronco's  final  instructions  on  the  stair- 
way, forgot  the  damaged  glove  in  his  exuberance,  and 
shook  hands  vigorously  with  everyone  he  could  reach. 
Then  with  the  consciousness  of  duty  nobly  done,  he  sought 


108  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

a  corner  and  mopped  his  moist  forehead  with  a  Lilliputian 
sheet  that  he  considered  a  handkerchief.  Bronco  edged 
up  to  him,  and  a  sudden  light  gleamed  in  Holy's  eyes. 

''Say,  Bronc,  what  the  devil  did  you  keep  kickin'  me 
an'  trompin'  on  my  feet  for?"  he  demanded  indignantly. 
"You  acted  like  a  cayuse  with  the  stringhalt." 

1 ' Stringhalt ! "  grunted  Bronco,  "If  you'd  had  any  hoss 
sense  whatsoever,  you'd  knowed  I  was  doin'  my  durndest 
to  get  you  to  shet  that  big  fist  of  your'n." 

Holy  looked  down  at  the  tattered  glove  that  dangled  in 
dingy  strings  from  the  offending  hand,  then  he  pulled  it 
off  in  sections.  "I  hope  some  one  will  shoot  the  top  of  my 
head  off  if  I  ever  wear  them  damned  things  again.  Not 
on  your  life — even  if  the  Boss  was  to  get  married  every  day 
in  the  year  for  the  rest  of  his  life ! ' ' 

He  jerked  off  the  other  glove,  wadded  them  together  in 
a  compact  ball,  and  deftly  tossed  it  out  the  open  window. 

The  wedding  party  adjourned  to  a  feast  spread  in  the 
dining  room  of  the  Willcox  Hotel,  where  toasts  were  given 
and  merriment  continued  unabated  till  the  west-bound 
' Flyer'  stopped  at  the  signal,  and  Traynor  and  his  bride 
left  for  a  couple  of  weeks  in  California,  leaving  Jamie  with 
Mrs.  Green. 

Powell  boarded  the  train  at  the  same  time,  as  he  had  to 
go  to  Tucson  on  business  connected  with  his  intention  to 
bid  for  the  Hot  Springs  Ranch. 

Bonfires  had  been  lighted  near  the  track,  and  the  boys 
fired  a  salute  to  the  Boss  and  his  bride.  The  coloured 
porter  darted  back  to  the  platform  of  the  train,  and  looked 
at  the  men  with  wild  eyes. 

"You  ain't  got  no  call  to  be  scairt,"  reassured  Bronco, 
"We're  jest  seein'  a  bridal  couple  off,  that's  all." 

Then  the  whites  of  the  porter's  eyes  disappeared  entirely, 
and  in  the  black  face  shone  a  row  of  gleaming  teeth. 

The  tail-light  of  the  train  disappeared  in  the  distance, 
the  bonfires  died  away,  and  the  boys  of  the  Diamond  H, 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  109 

feeling  they  had  done  things  up  '  good  and  proper, '  sought 
their  beds  in  the  hotel. 

"Gosh!  I'm  glad  the  Boss  ain't  a  Mormon!"  sighed 
Bronco,  as  he  dropped  to  sleep.  The  only  response  to  his 
remark  was  a  chorus  of  snores  in  which  he  soon  joined. 

Out  in  the  dusty  road  was  a  tiny  ball  that  had  once  been 
a  pair  of  white  kid  gloves. 


CHAPTER  TWELVE 

THE  weekly  stage  from  Willcox  to  Aravaipa 
Canon,  which  stopped  at  the  ranch  on  Mondays, 
brought  a  letter  to  Limber  from  Allan  Traynor, 
instructing  the  foreman  to  meet  himself  and  his  wife  upon 
their  arrival  from  California  on  Thursday.  There  was 
also  a  note  from  Doctor  Powell,  who  was  still  in  Tucson, 
saying  that  he  would  return  to  the  ranch  on  Wednesday. 

The  men  had  just  eaten  lunch  and  were  grouped  about 
the  stables  when  Limber  imparted  the  news  to  them, 
adding,  "The  Boss  says  to  slick  up  the  big  room  on  the 
front  porch,  and  we've  got  to  hustle  to  get  it  done  in  time. 
They'll  be  here  in  three  days." 

"Say,  Limber,"  interrupted  Bronco,  who  was  usually 
the  ruling  spirit,  "Don't  you  think  we'd  oughter  get  a 
wedclin'  present  for  'em?" 

"I  sure  do!"  endorsed  Limber,  "But,  what  kin  we  get? 
If  we'd  had  any  sense  among  us  we'd  of  sent  off  long  ago 
for  somethin'  proper.  Mrs.  Green  would  of  knowed,  but 
it's  too  late  now." 

"Let's  chip  in  and  get  some  big  Navajo  blankets  like 
Mrs.  Green's,'  suggested  Holy.  "Looked  a  heap  prettier 'n 
carpets  on  her  floor." 

"Gee !  Holy,  you  do  get  an  idee  onct  in  a  while."  jeered 
Bronco,  whose  chief  delight  in  14fe  was  to  tease  Holy,  and, 
like  tourists  who  throw  stones  into  the  crater  of  a  volcano, 
stand  by  in  admiration  of  the  eruption  that  followed. 

"Now,  see  here,"  admonished  Limber,  "don't  you  and 
Holy  get  to  millin'.     Thar  ain't  no  time  for  it." 

Holy  glared  at  Bronco,  who  grinned  back  at  him  and 
murmured,  "Fust  blood." 

Limber    reverted   to    the    letter.     "It   says   that    Mrs. 

110 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  111 

Traynor  will  have  the  little  room  off'n  the  big  room  for 
her'n,  and  we'd  better  whitewash  it." 

He  broke  off  and  looked  at  the  others,  as  he  said,  "Have 
we  got  a  whitewash  brush  that  is  fitten  to  use?" 

"Whitewash  your  grandmother!"  retorted  Bronco  con- 
temptuously. "We'd  oughter  paper  it.  I  seen  some 
dandy  paper  with  pink  roses  stampeding  all  over  it  at  the 
Headquarter  Store.  Whitewash  is  all  O.K.  for  cow- 
punchers  and  bronco  busters,  but  girls  likes  paper  and — 
and — them  sorter  things,"  he  concluded  hastily. 

"We  don't  know  how  to  do  it,"  objected  Limber,  "and 
thar  ain't  no  paperhanger  in  Willcox." 

"Shucks!  Tairi't  no  trick  noway,"  responded  Bronco 
airily.  "1 11  show  you.  All  you  got  ter  do  is  get  the  paper 
an'  do  what  I  tell  you." 

Impressed  by  his  convincing  air  the  quartette  engaged 
in  making  a  list  of  the  things  Bronco  considered  necessary, 
the  principal  items  being  the  paper  with  pink  roses  and 
three  of  'the  biggest,  highest  priced  and  reddest  Navajo 
blankets  in  town.' 

After  watching  Bronco  start  on  his  mission,  Limber  and 
the  others  saddled  their  ponies  for  the  daily  routine  work 
on  the  range,  as  they  knew  that  Bronco  could  not  get  home 
before  late  that  night. 

It  was  nearly  midnight  when  Bronco  rode  into  the  stables, 
but  the  entire  bunch  of  men  met  him  with  a  volley  of 
questions  as  he  dismounted  from  his  pony.  Bursting  with 
importance,  he  unrolled  the  Navajo  blankets  which  had 
been  tied  to  the  back  of  his  saddle;  while  the  paper,  care- 
fully packed  in  gunny-sacks,  was  swung  across  the  front 
horn. 

The  men  grasped  the  purchases  and  carried  them  to  the 
bunkhouse  where  they  opened  the  sacks  eagerly.  The 
blankets  had  been  fully  endorsed  and  admired;  but  when 
Bronco,  imitating  the  storekeeper,  unrolled  a  sample  of 
the  paper  and  held  it  up  with  a  flourish,  no  words  were  left 
to  express  their  delight. 


112  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

1  'Now,  we'll  get  up  early  tomorrow  so's  to  tackle  the 
job  and  get  it  over,"  said  Limber,  after  they  had  disposed 
of  the  packages  in  the  room  they  contemplated  papering. 
Filled  with  joyful  anticipations  they  tumbled  into  their 
bunks. 

Bronco  was  the  first  to  waken,  and  he  roused  the  others 
before  daylight,  despite  their  protests. 

Roarer  sat  up  and  blinked  stupidly  at  the  lamp  which 
Bronco  was  lighting. 

"I  ain't  had  no  sleep  that  was  any  good,"  he  quavered 
in  his  thin  voice.  "I  was  chasm'  pink  roses  all  night — they 
had  horns  and  tails  and  four  legs,  jest  like  cows,  and  I  was 
tryin'  to  rope  'em.     I'm  plumb  played  out." 

His  tale  of  woe  was  unheard  by  the  others  as  they 
hurriedly  adjusted  clothes  and  tumbled  out  of  the  bunk- 
house  to  the  ranch  kitchen  for  breakfast.  Fong,  the  cook, 
was  in  no  aimiable  mood  because  he  had  to  serve  break- 
fast an  hour  earlier  than  usual ;  but  when  he  learned  that 
they  expected  to  take  possession  of  his  kitchen  and  sundry 
utensils,  his  wrath  was  expressed  in  a  wordy  battle  in 
'pidgin  English.  He  only  succumbed  to  superior  numbers 
when  he  retreated  to  the  back  porch.  His  mutterings  could 
be  heard  distinctly  by  those  in  the  kitchen,  and  Bronco 
cocked  his  head  on  one  side  and  listened  attentively  to  the 
angry  cook. 

"  Say,  Holy,  I  don't  savvy  what  that  year  Chink  is  sayin', 
but  it  sounds  a  heap  worse 'n  anything  I  ever  heerd  you 
say.  He 's  got  you  beat  to  a  frazzle.  Why  don 't  you  learn 
Chinee?  Then  when  your  stock  of  cuss  words  gets  stale 
you  can  start  on  a  new  lot. ' ' 

Holy's  retort  was  cut  short  by  Limber,  who  paused  in 
rolling  a  cigarette  and  observed,  "You're  captain  of  this 
round-up,  Bronco.     How  do  you  start  her?" 

They  all  gathered  about  Bronco  as  he  explained  the 
process  unhesitatingly.  He  did  not  divulge  that  he  had 
asked  information  at  the  store,  regarding  the  preparation 
of   paper,   making  paste   and   other   necessary   details  of 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  113 

paperhanging.  It  had  seemed  so  simple  that  he  was  sure 
he  could  remember  everything. 

"Well,  fust  you  cut  the  edges  off'n  the  paper,  then  you 
make  a  biscuit  dough  and  thin  her  out  and  stick  the  paper 
up,  and  thar  you  are !     Easy  as  rollin'  off'n  a  log !" 

"That's  all  right  so  long  as  the  log  ain't  pinted  into 
a  mudhole  whar  thar's  a  buckskin  cow,"  murmured  Holy, 
with  a  side  glance  at  Bronco.  The  innuendo  was  loftily 
ignored,  and  Holy  tried  other  tactics. 

"Whar'  did  yon  learn  to  paper,  anyhow?"  he  demamded 
suspiciously.  "You  never  let  on  you  knowed  how  until 
last  night." 

"Think  I'm  Hasayampering ? "  Bronco  answered  indig- 
nantly. "I  seed  them  paper  a  room  down  to  Eureka 
Springs  three  years  ago.  I  helped  them  do  it."  He  re- 
served the  elucidation  that  he  had  helped  carry  in  a  gal- 
vanized tub,  nothing  more.  "  Mebbe  you  don't  believe 
me,  but  if  any  of  you  fellers  thinks  he  knows  more'n  I  do 
about  it,  I'm  willin'  to  lay  back  in  harness  and  let  him 
take  the  lead,  and  yours  truly  won't  do  no  kickin'  over 
the  traces,  neither." 

As  no  one  was  disposed  to  dispute  his  authority,  he  con- 
tinued in  a  mollified  voice: 

1 '  Roarer,  you  go  get  all  the  flour  you  kin  find  and  bring 
it  here." 

Roarer  looked  dubiously  toward  the  back  porch  and 
scratched  his  head,  then  he  tiptoed  to  the  door,  peeped 
through  it,  and  discovering  Fong  had  deserted  the  place, 
started  on  his  search,  while  Bronco  issued  his  commands 
to  the  others. 

' '  Limber,  you  kin  chase  that  new  whitewash  brush  I  left 
in  the  bunkhouse,  and  Holy  can  trim  the  edges  off'n  the 
paper.  Then  you  kin  all  help  mix  the  paste  when  I  get 
ready. ' ' 

"Does  anybody  know  whar  the  shears  is?"  queried  Holy, 
knowing  from  experience  that  a  needle  in  a  haystack  could 
be  located  twenty  times  before  the  one  pair  of  shears  on 


114.  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

the  ranch  was  generally  found  by  the  searcher.  "Brone, 
you  had  them  scissors  three  weeks  ago  cuttin'  Limber's 
hair.     I  seed  you.     Whar  are  they?" 

Bronco  looked  nonplussed,  then  asserted,  "Roarer  took 
'em  away  from  us  before  the  job  was  done,  and  then  he 
disremembered  whar  he'd  put  'em.  Limber  had  to  go  to 
town  with  one  side  his  hair  cut  and  Dunning  finished  up 
the  job." 

Limber  appeared  with  the  whitewash  brush,  and  at  his 
heels  came  Roarer  dragging  two  sacks  of  flour. 

"This  is  all  I  kin  find,"  said  Roarer.  "Reckon  it  will 
be  enough?" 

Bronco  was  non-committal,  "I'll  use  it  up  and  see  how 
fur  it'll  go." 

"Say,  Roarer,  you  got  to  find  the  scissors.  You  was 
the  last  one  that  had  'em.  "Where  are  they?"  called  Holy 
accusingly. 

Roarer  stared  blankly,  then  whirled  out  the  door.  Holy 
sat  swearing  until  Roarer  re-appeared  and  exhibited  the 
lost  shears,  explaining,  "I  just  happened  to  think  that  I 
couldn't  find  the  wire-nippers  that  day  when  you  was 
cuttin'  Limber's  hair,  and  that  was  why  I  got  'em  from 
you.  I  left  'em  in  the  blacksmith  shop,  but  I  disremem- 
bered it  till  you  spoke  about  'em.  They  may  cut  paper, 
but  they  ain't  no  good  for  cuttin'  wire." 

He  handed  the  badly  damaged  shears  to  Holy  who  seated 
himself  on  the  floor.  Selecting  a  roll  of  paper  from  the 
pile  before  him,  Holy  opened  and  contemplated  it  in  per- 
plexity, finally  appealing  to  Bronco : 

■ '  Sav,  Bronc,  there 's  two  white  edges.  Shall  I  trim  'em 
both?" 

Bronco  stood  gazing  down  at  the  paper.  "Durned  if 
I  know,"  he  confessed.  "But  thar  ain't  no  use  shirkin' 
the  job  since  we  tackled  it.  Pitch  in,  Holy.  Let  'er  go, 
and  cut  'em  both  off,"  he  directed  recklessly  before  he  was 
attracted  by  the  struggles  of  Roarer  and  Limber,  who 
dragged  in  a  galvanized  tub. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  115 

Behind  them  came  Fong,  protesting  wildly,  "No  clatchee 
more  flouler.     No  makee  biscuits  tomollow." 

"Well,  give  us  crackers, "  commanded  Bronco.  "This 
year  room  has  got  to  be  papered  today.  Go  chase  your- 
self, Fong." 

The  Chinaman  disappeared  jabbering  and  shaking  his 
head,  but  no  one  paid  attention  to  Fong's  worries.  Each 
was  immersed  in  his  own  troubles. 

Holy  struggled  heroically  with  spirals  of  paper,  and 
volcanic  outbursts  of  his  pet  expressions  floated  from  his 
part  of  the  room  as  he  endeavoured  to  extricate  himself 
from  the  enveloping  coils.  Bronco  hovered  over  the  tub, 
directing  Limber  and  Roarer,  who  dumped  a  sack  and  a 
half  of  flour  into  it. 

"You  gotter  put  salt  in,  next,"  said  Bronco,  and  the  two 
cowpunchers  darted  to  a  cupboard  where  each  captured 
a  small  bag  of  salt. 

"What  next?"  they  demanded,  becoming  imbued  with 
enthusiasm  as  the  salt  mingled  with  the  tub  of  flour. 

"And — er — and — "  floundered  Bronco  hopelessly. 
"There's  something  else.  What  the  devil  is  it?"  he  im- 
plored the  others. 

"Water,"  prompted  Holy  from  his  corner,  his  head  and 
arms  protruding  from  the  paper  making  him  resemble  a 
huge  turtle.     "I  knowed  you'd  forget  that." 

Bronco's  ire  found  vent  in  a  few  words  borrowed  from 
Holy's  vocabulary,  and  Limber,  mounted  on  a  box,  turned 
from  inspecting  the  cupboard  to  say:  "If  we're  goin'  to 
paper  this  room,  you  two  quit  scrapin'  and  get  down  to 
business.  If  you  ain't,  jest  say  so,  and  I'll  set  Manuel  to 
whitewashin'  it." 

His  threat  had  the  desired  effect.  Bronco  appealed  to 
Limber,  "Larry  told  me  to  mix  it  like  biscuit  dough  and 
thin  it  out  with  water.  There  was  somethin'  else  but  I've 
plumb  forgot  it,  Limber." 

"Well,  try  lard,  then,"  suggested  Limber,  poking  his 
head  back  in  the  cupboard  and  scanning  the  contents  hop- 


116  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ing  to  find  the  missing  article,  even  though  it  were  neces- 
sary to  add  everything  on  the  shelves.  ' '  How  about  some 
niggerfoot  molasses?" 

''Lard's  all  right, "  replied  Bronco,  "but  niggerfoot 
don't  go  in  biscuits." 

"Well,  it  goes  on  top  of  'em  pretty  slick,  and  it's  good 
and  sticky,  so  it  oughter  be  a  good  thing  to  put  in,"  per- 
sisted Limber,  holding  out  the  can.  "Mebbe  Larry  for- 
got to  tell  you  to  use  it." 

"Jest  a  leetle  bit,"  conceded  Bronco,  wishing  heartily 
that  Limber  would  insist  upon  whitewashing  the  room ;  but 
not  brave  enough  to  suggest  it  himself.  It  had  taken  him 
two  years  to  live  down  the  episode  of  the  buckskin  cow,  and 
he  knew  that  Holy  and  Roarer  would  make  life  a  burden  if 
he  confessed  his  inability  to  finish  the  work  he  had  so  reck- 
lessly undertaken. 

He  watched  the  black  molasses  trickle  into  the  contents 
of  the  tub  until  the  last  drop  had  fallen.  Limber  ascended 
the  box  again. 

"Thar's  another  can  of  niggerfoot.  Don't  be  stingy 
with  it  Bronc,"  admonished  Limber. 

Bronco  had  not  the  courage  to  negative  any  suggestion, 
but  he  groped  mentally,  "It  wras  a  short  word,"  he  told 
Limber  with  a  faint  gleam  of  hope. 

1 '  Dam ! ' '  exploded  Holy.  ' '  Jest  look  at  this  dod-ratted, 
twistin'  paper,  will  you?  Talk  about  your  Hopi  snake- 
dancers,  they  ain't  in  it  with  me!  Where  am  I  at?"  he 
demanded  from  a  labyrinth  of  paper  coils. 

Bronco  was  glad  of  the  chance  to  assume  knowledge  that 
he  did  not  possess,  much  as  a  small  boy  bolsters  up  his 
ebbing  courage  in  a  dark  lane  by  whistling  loudly. 

"I  told  you  to  cut  the  edges  straight,"  he  announced 
oracularly,  ' '  and  these  year  look  like  a  cross-eyed  maverick 
had  been  usin '  a  circular  saw  to  cut  wall-paper  for  a  merry- 
go-round.  Why  that  paper  would  give  a  minister  a  jag  to 
look  at  it!" 

"If  one  of  you  fellers  would  hog-tie  that  end  whilst  I 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  117 

get  a  diamond-hitch  on  this'n,  I  niought  have  some  show," 
defended  Holy  feebly. 

Roarer  went  to  the  rescue  and  gripped  one  end  of  a  roll 
while  Holy  conscientiously  proceeded  to  mutilate  the  edges 
and  succeeded  in  making  the  scallops  a  trifle  smaller. 
Limber  and  Bronco  resumed  their  consultation. 

"I  bet  it  was  yeast,"  jubilated  Limber.  "We  all  forgot 
about  that,  and  it's  a  short  word,  sure  enough." 

"I  guess  you're  right,"  Bronco  agreed  with  desperate 
haste,  and  without  delay  he  dumped  a  large  can  of  baking 
powder  into  the  tub.  "Now,  all  we  got  to  do  is  thin  her 
out  and  then  she's  ready  to  start  work." 

Limber  helped  him  carry  the  tub  into  the  front  room, 
escorted  by  Roarer  and  Holy,  who  trailed  yards  of  paper 
which  had  escaped  from  their  encircling  arms. 

"We  need  a  board  and  two  saw-horses  to  stand  on," 
said  Bronco  cheerfully,  believing  the  worst  of  the  trouble 
was  over.  "Holy,  you  and  Roarer  paste  the  paper  with 
the  whitewash  brush,  whilst  Limber  helps  me  stic'er  up. 
We  got  to  have  system  if  we  want  to  get  anything  done 
right." 

The  first  strip  was  duly  prepared,  and  they  viewed  it 
with  feelings  akin  to  the  emotions  of  Columbus  and  his 
crew  when  they  sighted  land.  Bronco  climbed  on  the 
plank  that  rested  on  the  saw-horses.  As  he  reached  down 
for  the  wet  strip  which  Limber  held  up  to  him,  the  board 
tipped  suddenly.  Bronco  slid,  clawing  wildly  at  space 
until  he  enveloped  Limber  in  a  pasty  embrace.  The  im- 
pact caused  them  both  to  fall  across  Holy  and  Roarer  who 
were  engaged  in  spreading  paste  on  another  strip.  The 
latter  proved  no  obstacle  in  the  mad  career  of  Limber  and 
Bronco,  which  ended  ignominously  in  a  sea  of  paste  from 
the  overturned  tub. 

When  the  confusion  had  subsided  sufficiently,  the  men 
surveyed  the  wreck  with  voiceless  disgust,  until  Holy  spoke 
sarcastically. 

"I  suppose  you'll  say  this  belongs  in  the  deal,  Bronc. 


118  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"What's  next?  You  sure  seem  to  be  the  movin'  spirit. 
But,  one  thing  I'm  stackin'  my  chips  on,  is  that  I'll  know 
better  the  next  time  I  start  to  paper  a  room  and  won't  do 
it." 

"You  can  quit  if  you  want  to.  I  ain't  no  quitter. 
Thar's  half  a  sack  of  flour  left,"  Bronco  challenged  over 
his  shoulder  as  he  started  for  the  door  to  the  back  porch 
where  he  had  deposited  the  surplus  flour.  The  half-sack 
of  flour  had  disappeared. 

"I  bet  that  Chink  got  it,"  asserted  Bronco  wrathfully, 
but  there  was  no  sign  of  Fong  in  answer  to  their  calls. 
Then  Limber  pointed  to  a  couple  of  burros  that  were  de- 
molishing the  last  shreds  of  a  flour  sack. 

"That  settles  it,"  grunted  Bronco,  blissfully  ignorant 
that  while  they  had  been  occupied,  Fong  had  slipped  slyly 
through  the  screen  door  of  the  porch,  clutched  the  half 
sack  of  flour,  retreated  successfully  and  after  dumping  the 
contents  of  the  sack  into  another  sack,  which  had  been 
washed,  the  Chinaman  with  a  leer  of  triumph,  tossed  the 
original  sack  to  the  burros.  Then,  complacently  he  began 
mixing  the  dough  for  the  next  day's  baking;  but  at  inter- 
vals he  peered  at  the  fast  vanishing  flour  sack,  and  saw  that 
his  ruse  was  successful  when  the  cowboys  discovered  the 
two  burros. 

"Gosh,  all  we  got  to  show  is  a  nice  mess  that's  got  to  be 
cleaned  up,  and  a  bill  down  to  the  Headquarters  for  paper 
with  pink  roses.  Ain't  it  a  shame?  Just  when  wTe  was 
getting  along  so  fine,  too."  Bronco's  tones  were  lugubri- 
ous, and  they  all  looked  regretfully  at  the  coils  of  paper 
that  cumbered  the  room.  Like  mourners  at  a  funeral  they 
gathered  around  the  coils.  The  pink  roses  grew  more  al- 
luring. Bronco  lifted  one  strip  and  held  it  against  the 
wall. 

"Whitewash  makes  me  sick,"  he  affirmed. 

"Suppose  I  go  over  to  Eureka  and  ask  Mrs.  Burns  to 
lend  us  enough  flour  to  finish  up  the  job?"    Limber  made 


; 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  119 

the  suggestion  and  the  idea  was  accepted  enthusiastically. 

While  he  was  gone  the  others  scraped  up  the  paste  and 
collected  the  scattered  rolls  of  paper,  then  went  to  the 
bunkhouse  and  waited  Limber's  return,  unaware  that  al- 
most half  a  sack  of  flour  reposed  in  a  corner  of  Fong's  tin 
trunk,  while  a  batch  of  bread  was  rising  beautifully  in  the 
dishpan  hidden  beneath  Fong's  bed.  Had  any  of  the  boys 
suspicioned  the  true  facts  there  would  have  been  a  badly- 
frightened  Chinaman  in  Arizona. 

When  Limber  returned  he  was  accompanied  by  Mrs. 
Burns  in  her  buggy,  while  Peanut,  Limber's  pony,  trotted 
at  the  back  of  the  rig,  hitched  to  the  axle. 

"You  boys  have  certainly  run  into  a  bunch  of  trouble," 
she  laughed  as  she  nimbly  climbed  from  the  rig.  "I  told 
Limber  that  I  might  be  able  to  help  you,  for  I've  done  all 
my  own  papering,  you  know." 

Limber  extricated  a  sack  that  held  flour,  and  joined  the 
procession  to  the  room  they  were  now  sure  would  be  dec- 
orated with  pink  roses. 

Mrs.  Burns  looked  at  the  remnant  of  paste  in  the  tub 
before  she  asked,  "What  on  earth  did  you  use?" 

"Everything  we  could  find,"  confessed  Bronco  humbly. 
"We  did  leave  out  eggs,  sugar  and  pepper." 

"All  you  need  is  flour,  hot  water  and  a  little  thin  glue 
water,"  she  laughed. 

"Glue!"  they  echoed. 

' '  I  told  you  Larry  said  it  was  a  short  word, ' '  triumphed 

ronco.  "Why  didn't  some  of  you  muttonheads  think  of 
glue?" 

"You  said  he  told  you  to  make  a  thin  biscuit  dough,  an 
har  ain't  no  glue  in  that,"  retorted  Holy,  but  further 
argument  was  avoided  as  Mrs.  Burns  began  issuing  busi- 
ness-like orders. 

By  the  time  the  sun  was  setting  the  papered  room  was 
pronounced  a  thorough  success,  and  Mrs.  Burns  made  her 
way  to  the  stables  followed  by  four  cowboys  whosa  hair  and 


120  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

clothes  spattered  with  dry  paste,  testified  to  an  honest  day 's 
labour. 

Mrs.  Burns  surveyed  them  as  she  picked  up  the  reins, 
ready  to  start  home,  while  Limber  mounted  Peanut  to  ac- 
company her.     It  was  eight  miles  to  Eureka  Springs. 

"I've  heard  of  lost  prospectors  eating  their  boots,"  she 
said,  "but  if  you  boys  ate  your  clothes,  you  would  need 
anti-fat.  Tell  the  Boss  I  will  be  over  soon  to  call  on  the 
bride.  Adios ! ' '  and  with  a  flourish  of  the  whip  she  drove 
away,  followed  by  the  gratitude  of  the  paste-daubed,  tired 
group. 

It  required  numerous  trips  to  the  kitchen  for  buckets  of 
hot  water  before  the  boys  removed  the  greater  part  of  the 
concoction  that  clung  tenaciously  to  faces,  hands  and  hair ; 
then  began  a  more  vigorous  attack  on  their  boots  and 
clothes. 

"It's  durnecl  lucky  that  Bronc  disremembered  about  the 
glue,"  congratulated  Roarer.  "We'd  a  never  got  that 
off." 

Bronco  slumped  into  a  rickety  chair,  tipping  it  against 
the  wall  to  ease  its  weakest  leg,  "It  takes  a  woman  to  round 
up  a  stampede  like  our'n  and  get  the  bunch  headed  right 
when  it  gets  to  millin'.  I'm  derned  glad  the  Boss  is  mar- 
ried, for  this  outfit  needs  female  purtection." 

"I  never  worked  so  hard  in  my  life,"  sighed  Holy,  flop- 
ping on  his  bunk. 

Bronco  grinned  across  the  room.  "Ain't  you  forgot  the 
time  you  wrote  a  letter  to  Bill  Johnson's  sister?  You  sure 
worked  that  time —  Set  around  the  bunkhouse  till  day- 
light tearin'  up  paper." 

"Well,  she  asked  all  of  us  to  write  her,"  snapped  Holy, 
"but  none  of  you  fellers  had  the  nerve  to  do  it,  and  when 
you  bet  I  couldn't,  I  called  your  bluff  and  won  out,  didn't 
I?" 

"You  sure  did,"  agreed  the  others,  recalling  the  historic 
missive  which  had  been  read  aloud  and  duly  admired  be- 
fore it  was  mailed. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  121 

Dere  Miss  Johnson 

as  I  hav  northin  mutch  to  do  I  wil  rite  you  a  few  lines 
we  are  al  wel  hear  but  my  pony  has  a  soar  back  and  we  hope 
you  are  the  same 
as  i  have  northin  mutch  to  say  i  wil  now  clos 

yours  truly 
Holy. 

None  of  the  Diamond  II  knew  that  Holy's  letter,  neatly 
framed,  hung  in  Miss  Johnson's  room  at  a  fashionable 
girls'  school,  where  it  was  the  centre  of  attraction;  and  a 
valued  souvenir  of  her  summer  visit  to  her  brother's  ranch, 
which  included  the  episode  of  a  dance  at  Willcox. 

The  silence  of  the  prairie  brooded  over  the  Diamond  II 
ranch.  Inside  the  bunkhouse  four  cowpunchers  slept 
serenely  unconscious  of  the  odour  of  freshly  baking  bread 
that  drifted  from  the  ranch  kitchen. 


CHAPTER  THIRTEEN 

JAMIE  was  tucked  comfortably  between  his  sister  and 
the  big,  new  brother,  and  as  they  drove  swiftly  along 
the  smooth  prairie  road  behind  the  high-headed  trot- 
ters, the  boy  forgot  his  shyness  in  constant  wonder. 

"This  is  a  prairie-dog  town,"  explained  Traynor  to  the 
child,  but  Nell  was  equally  interested.  "Those  holes  are 
where  they  live,  and  when  a  rain  is  coming  they  all  get 
busy  heaping  up  the  earth  to  prevent  water  going  down 
into  their  homes  and  drowning  them  out.  They  are  good 
weather  prophets." 

"Oh,  look!  It's  sitting  up!"  cried  the  child  in  delight, 
pointing  at  a  tiny  brown-furred  animal  squatted  on  its  hind 
legs  and  barking  shrilly. 

"Watch  him  when  we  get  nearer,"  suggested  Traynor. 
"See,  they  are  stationed  at  regular  intervals,  just  like  sol- 
diers. They  are  the  sentinels  who  warn  the  others  of  ap- 
proaching enemies."  The  prairie-dog  nearest  the  carriage, 
gave  a  final  bark  of  defiance,  wiggled  its  short  tail  and 
dodged  into  the  hole.  The  next  nearest  dog  then  took  up 
the  warning  bark. 

"What  bright  little  things  they  are!"  Nell  smiled  at  the 
yapping  little  animal  that  shouted  pigmy  challenge  twenty 
feet  distant. 

"If  they  had  long  tails,"  Jamie  hastened  to  say,  "they'd 
be  like  the  squirrels  we  used  to  feed  in  the  Park." 

"We'll  get  Limber  to  trap  one  for  you,"  promised 
Traynor.  "You  won't  have  to  keep  it  in  a  cage  after  it 
knows  you,  for  it  will  dig  a  hole  close  to  the  house  and 
never  leave." 

122 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  123 

Jamie's  shining  eyes  met  Nell's  and  he  gave  an  ecstatic 
sigh  as  he  settled  against  her  shoulder.  But  in  an  instant 
he  was  alert,  watching  a  cotton-tail  rabbit  dash  across  the 
road.     It  halted  by  a  mesquite  bush. 

''Maybe  I  can  catch  it."  Traynor  handed  the  reins  to  his 
wife  and  stepped  cautiously  until  he  reached  down  and 
picked  the  cowering  creature  by  its  ears.  Jamie  uttered  a 
cry  of  delight  as  his  hands  closed  gently  over  the  rabbit. 

"Once  in  a  while  you  can  do  that,"  commented  the  man 
as  he  took  the  reins  again.  "The  Apaches  often  catch 
them  that  way,  but  I'd  hate  to  have  my  dinner  depend  on 
the  success  of  getting  a  rabbit  by  this  method." 

The  child  was  holding  the  quivering  captive  against  his 
cheek.  Its  eyes  wTere  bright  with  terror,  and  when  Jamie 
looked  up  at  Traynor,  his  eyes  held  something  of  the  same 
bright,  frightened  appeal.  "Won't  you  please  let  it  go 
home  now?  I'm  afraid  it  will  be  lonesome  tonight,  like 
I  used  to  be  when  Nell  was  away  working  all  day  in  New 
York." 

Traynor  lifted  the  tiny  prisoner  and  let  it  slip  to  the 
ground.  They  laughed  together  as  it  scurried  and  leaped 
across  the  prairie  until  it  was  lost  to  sight. 

"He  knew  the  right  way  home,"  said  Jamie,  clapping 
his  hands,  "and  it  has  gone  to  tell  its  little  boys  and  girls 
about  the  giants  that  caught  it  and  how  it  got  away.  They 
will  be  awful  glad  to  see  him  come  home,  won't  they?" 
Nell  nodded,  and  the  boy  went  on,  "Sometimes  I  used  to 
think  maybe  a  giant  would  catch  Nell  so  she  couldn't  come 
home  to  me  when  it  got  dark,  and  it  made  my  throat  hurt. 
But  you  always  did  come,"  he  finished  with  a  smile  at  his 
sister,  who  thus  learned  for  the  first  time  of  his  childish 
fear. 

Her  arm  went  about  him  suddenly  and  she  held  him  close 
as  she  answered,  "And  the  giants  didn't  catch  me,  you  see. 
Instead,  you  and  I  ran  away  to  a  wonderful,  new  country, 
where  the  Prince  came  and  found  us,  and  now  he  is  taking 
us  home  to  live  with  him." 


124.  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"And  we  won't  have  to  go  back  again,  ever,  will  we 
Nell?"  he  asked  in  sudden  anxiety. 

"No,  dear,"  she  answered.  "It's  going  to  be  just  like 
the  story  books.  Don't  you  remember?  'And  they  all 
lived  happily  for  ever  afterward ! '  " 

The  child  leaned  back  with  a  contented  sigh,  and  his 
closed  eyes  did  not  see  the  look  that  passed  between  Nell 
and  Traynor.  The  horses  had  slowed  down  to  a  walk  and 
Traynor's  right  hand  held  the  reins  loosely,  but  his  left 
hand  closed  over  the  girl's  ungloved  one  with  its  new 
golden  band  on  the  slender  finger.  He  smiled  at  her,  and 
then  her  eyes  filled  with  quick  tears,  as  he  leaned  over  to 
kiss  her  tenderly. 

"Tears,  Nell?" 

' '  Tears  of  happiness, ' '  she  answered  tremulously.  * '  The 
tears  that  come  when  one's  heart  is  too  happy  for  laugh- 
ter." 

Nell  had  a  distinct  recollection  of  her  first  view  of  the 
ranch  when  she  had  seen  it  from  the  stage  coach,  but  the 
thought  now  that  this  was  her  home  and  Allan's  lent  a 
different  interest  to  the  little  village  of  cream-coloured 
buildings  with  red  roofs,  surrounded  by  Cottonwood  and 
willow  trees.  Here  and  there  poked  windmills  that  sup- 
plied the  troughs  and  ponds  with  water.  That  other  ride 
had  been  filled  with  anxious  uncertainty  as  to  what  lay  be- 
fore her,  but  now,  the  whole  world  was  a  wonderful  dream 
of  happiness  and  love.     This  was  her  home. 

The  carriage  entered  the  big  driveway  into  the  main 
stable,  where  the  men  and  Fong  were  waiting  to  meet 
them.  A  pack  of  greyhounds  lying  on  the  floor,  leaped  and 
began  to  yelp  in  excitement.  From  the  box-stalls  sleek 
heads  of  handsome  horses  peered  curiously,  then  they  whin- 
nied a  welcome  home  to  the  team  that  pawed  the  floor  im- 
patiently. 

Nell  scarcely  had  time  to  note  it  all  when  Doctor  Powell 
came  from  the  court-yard  of  the  house  and  helped  her  from 
the  carriage. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  125 

"I  got  back  yesterday,"  he  said,  after  they  had  all  ex- 
changed words  of  welcome.  His  eyes  rested  on  Jamie, 
"Well,  I  believe  Arizona  is  fattening  you  up  already," 
he  exclaimed,  taking  the  child's  hand  in  his  own.  "You 
and  I  must  be  chums,  Jamie,  for  we're  both  tenderfeet,  and 
have  lots  to  learn.  Limber  picked  out  a  fine  little  pony  for 
you  to  ride,  and  I  found  a  saddle  in  Tucson  that  is  just 
your  size.  We'll  both  learn  to  be  cowboys,  now.  Won't 
that  be  fine?" 

The  child's  smile  told  that  Powell  had  won  a  loyal  fol- 
lower. The  doctor's  love  for  children  was  a  magnet  that 
drew  them  to  him  at  once.  Now  he  looked  down  at  the 
child,  measuring  the  battle  to  be  fought,  and  knew  the  vic- 
tory would  not  be  easily  won,  for  the  child's  vitality  had 
been  deeply  sapped. 

Nell  paused  in  the  court-yard.  It  was  eighty  feet  square, 
with  deep  porches  on  all  four  sides.  Triangular  flower- 
beds were  in  each  corner,  and  over  a  pergola  climbing  roses 
in  full  bloom  mingled  with  honeysuckle  and  flowering 
syringa,  which  recklessly  distilled  their  combined  fragrance. 
Even  the  windmill  in  the  centre  of  the  court  was  com- 
pletely hidden  by  vines. 

She  followed  her  husband  into  the  low-ceilinged  living 
room,  and  with  a  little  smile  she  dropped  into  the  same  big 
chair  that  had  held  her  in  sleep  when  the  cowboys  discov- 
ered her  that  unforgettable  day. 

"Come  see  this  view,"  called  Allan,  and  she  went  to  the 
long  French  window  and  stood  beside  him.  "Those  moun- 
tains are  the  most  wonderful  sermons  in  the  world,"  he 
said.  "  It  took  me  a  long  time  to  understand  them.  Lim- 
ber helped  me.  When  I  was  discouraged,  he  did  not  say 
anything,  but  just  saddled  his  little  pinto  pony,  Peanut,  and 
my  own  horse,  Chinati,  and  we  rode  silently  for  hours 
through  long,  dim  trails,  until  I  found  courage  and  peace. 
Then  we  came  home  again.  You  and  I  will  ride  those  trails 
together  dear.  They  have  known  my  dark  hours,  and  now 
I  want  them  to  share  our  happiness." 


126  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

He  turned,  and  with  his  arm  about  her  waist,  led  her 
to  a  door  that  connected  the  living-room  with  an  adjoining 
one. 

"I  told  the  boys  to  slick  up  this  room  for  you,  and  you 
can  select  your  furniture  from  the  catalogue.  That  is  how 
we  shop  when  we  live  on  a  ranch,  you  know." 

As  he  threw  open  the  door,  the  pink  roses  aud  red  Navajo 
rugs  shrieked  discordant  welcome,  and  Traynor  started  in 
surprise. 

"Well!"  he  exclaimed.  "I  told  them  to  whitewash  it! 
This  certainly  is  a  transformation.  I  wonder  how  on  earth 
they  managed  it?  If  you  don't  care  for  the  paper,  Nell,  it 
can  be  changed.     It's  a  trifle  gaudy,  I  must  confess." 

"It's  the  sweetest  room  I  ever  had!"  she  answered 
warmly.  "I  just  love  every  one  of  those  awful  pink  roses, 
and  I  'm  going  out  now  to  tell  the  men  how  I  love  it ! " 

She  darted  from  the  room  and  found  the  men  in  the 
main  stable.  They  looked  at  her  with  evident  embarrass- 
ment, but  she  held  out  her  hand,  smiling  as  she  cried  im- 
pulsively, "I  want  to  shake  hands  with  each  one  of  you, 
and  thank  you  for  taking  such  trouble  to  make  my  room 
so  pretty!  It  is  the  nicest  room  I  have  ever  had  in  my 
whole  life!" 

They  took  her  hand  awkwardly  in  turn,  then  each  waited 
for  one  of  the  others  to  answer.     Silence  gripped  them. 

Holy  finally  made  a  heroic  effort  and  distinguished  him- 
self by  exploding,  "Oh,  Hell!  That  warn't  northin'! 
'Tweren't  no  trouble  whatsomever ! ' ' 

Unable  to  control  the  corners  of  her  mouth,  Nell  re- 
treated to  the  house,  where  she  sank  on  a  couch  and  shook 
with  laughter  as  she  related  to  Allan  the  result  of  her  ap- 
preciation. 

As  soon  as  her  skirt  had  vanished  through  the  court-yard 
the  men  turned  wrathfully  on  Holy. 

"Say,  Holy,"  Bronco  said  fiercely,  "what  the  devil  do 
you  suppose  she  will  think  of  this  outfit  with  you  cussin' 
at  her  that  way?" 


; 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  127 

Holy  looked  abashed  and  scratched  his  head,  "  Damned 
if  I  know  how  I  come  to  say  it !  But,  if  one  of  you  fellers 
had  of  said  somethin'  I  wouldn't  got  no  chanct  to  cuss. 
You  all  jest  made  me  do  it !"  He  stalked  away  in  offended 
dignity,  while  the  other  men  looked  after  him. 

"Well,  what  d'ye  think  of  that?"  Bronco  demanded  of 
Limber  and  Roarer,  who  only  shook  their  heads,  Holy's 
logic  was  too  much  for  them  to  pass  upon. 

The  day's  surprises  did  not  end  with  the  elaborate  din- 
ner upon  which  Fong  had  lavished  his  best  efforts.  In  the 
evening,  as  Nell,  Jamie,  Traynor  and  Powell  sat  in  the  liv- 
ing-room, Fong  entered  bearing  what  appeared  to  be  a 
Chinese  pagoda  of  delicate  carved  ivory. 

Beaming,  he  deposited  it  upon  the  center-table,  and  as 
they  drew  near,  they  saw  it  was  a  cake  with  white  icing 
that  loomed  almost  two  feet  high.  It  was  a  lace-work 
Eiffel  tower  from  which  swung  fairy-like  bridges  to  the 
outer  base,  and  this  foundation  was  a  mass  of  intricate  de- 
signs in  pure  white  icing.  Along  the  edge  of  the  cake,  in 
rose  pink  letters,  was  written  "Mary  Crixmas,"  for  Fong's 
previous  attempts  in  such  lines  had  been  confined  to  Christ- 
mas festivals,  and  the  spelling  of  the  words  had  slipped 
from  his  memory  through  long  disuse. 

The  Chinaman  presented  a  sharp  knife  to  Nell,  as  he 
said,  "Your  clake.     You  cuttee  him." 

"It's  a  shame  to  cut  it,"  she  protested,  as  she  took  the 
knife.  Then  she  turned  to  her  husband,  "I  want  the  men 
to  see  it  first,  and  we'll  give  them  each  a  piece  of  it,  Allan, 
if  you  don't  mind." 

He  hurried  out  of  the  room  to  marshal  the  boys  before 
im.  The  cake  was  duly  admired  and  Fong's  pride 
satiated.  Then  the  knife  did  its  deadly  work,  and  the 
fairy  bridges  toppled,  bit  by  bit,  until  the  whole  outfit  had 
received  a  generous  portion  of  Fong's  masterpiece. 

"Hold  on,"  said  Traynor.  "Fong,  you  get  some  glasses, 
and  bring  one  for  yourself,  too." 

While  Fong  obeyed  the  order,  Traynor  disappeared  to 


128  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

return  with  several  bottles  of  champagne,  which  he  opened. 

Thus  they  drank  to  the  health  and  happiness  of  the  Boss 
of  the  Diamond  H  and  his  bride,  and  in  those  glasses  was 
pledged  an  unspoken  devotion  that  would  count  no  sacri- 
fice too  great  to  make  for  the  Boss  and  the  little  lady. 

It  was  long  past  midnight  before  the  men  settled  in  their 
bunks  and  the  light  was  turned  out.  For  quite  a  while 
nothing  disturbed  the  silence,  then  Roarer's  voice  pierced 
the  darkness  shrilly,  ' '  Say,  where  did  Fong  get  the  flour  to 
make  that  cake?  We  all  seen  them  burros  eatin'  the  flour 
sack,  didn't  we?  An'  that's  all  the  flour  thar  was  on  the 
ranch?" 

"Shet  up!"  responded  Holy  fiercely.  "I  don't  know 
whar  he  got  it  an'  what's  more  I  don't  care.  It  was  damned 
good  cake,  anyhow!" 


PART  TWO 


CHAPTER  FOURTEEN 

TIE  life  of  the  ranch  was  like  a  series  of  fairy  talea 
to  Nell  and  Jamie  in  these  first  days  of  their  home- 
coming to  the  Diamond  H.  Not  the  least  wonder- 
ful  and  delightful  of  their  new  experiences  were  the  riding 
lessons.  A  couple  of  gentle,  easy-gaited  ponies  were  sad- 
dled for  the  boy  and  his  sister,  and  accompanied  by  Tray- 
nor  and  Doctor  Powell  they  rode  to  the  various  outlying 
ranches  that  formed  a  part  of  the  immense  Diamond  H 
range.  Often  Limber  rode  with  them.  Always  the  riders 
were  preceded  by  the  pack  of  greyhounds  that  darted  yelp- 
ing after  jackrabbits  or  an  occasional  coyote. 

Doctor  Powell  had  been  waiting  the  outcome  of  King's 
will,  which  had  been  written  out  by  hand  with  no  witnesses. 
As  there  were  no  heirs,  and  Allan  Traynor,  the  executor, 
had  been  appointed  in  the  will  without  bonds,  he  was  given 
full  power  to  sell  the  property  in  conformance  with  the 
terms  of  the  will.  This  stipulated  positively  that  the  prop- 
erty was  only  to  be  sold  to  a  physician  who  would  establish 
a  sanitarium  upon  the  place  without  undue  delay;  and 
the  Probate  Court  ordered  that  these  terms  be  carried  out. 
Until  after  the  will  was  made  public,  only  Traynor  and 
a  few  Land  Office  people  were  aware  that  King  had  patented 
the  land.  Glendon  expressed  his  disappointment  vehem- 
ently. There  were  many  who  wished  to  bid  for  the  Springs, 
but  Powell  was  the  only  eligible  purchaser,  and  was  ready 
with  the  cash.  After  complying  with  all  legal  formalities, 
he  was  given  immediate  possession  of  the  Hot  Springs 
ranch. 

All  proceeds  of  the  sale,  according  to  the  will,  were  to 
be  turned  over  to  the  executor  until  such  time  as  the  san- 

131 


132  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

itarium  was  completed,  when  this  entire  fund  was  to  be 
applied  to  the  maintenance  of  the  place.  Thus,  Doctor 
King,  unable  to  live  and  see  the  realization  of  his  dream, 
was  assisting  in  carrying  out  his  plans.  It  was  a  partner- 
ship between  the  dead  and  living  owners  of  the  Hot  Springs, 
which  Powell  felt  a  sacred  obligation.  He  wished  heartily 
that  the  old  doctor  could  have  lived  so  they  might  have 
worked  together;  but,  he  resolved  that  so  far  as  he  was 
able  the  undertaking  should  embody  the  ideals  which  the 
dead  doctor  had  not  lived  to  see  fulfilled. 

Limber  was  commissioned  to  find  a  man  to  occupy  the 
ranch  house  at  the  Springs  until  the  doctor's  plans  were 
completed.  The  search  resulted  in  the  hiring  of  a  Mexican 
dwarf,  whose  own  name,  long  forgotten,  found  a  substitute 
in  "Chappo,"  or  "Little  Chap."  When  living  near  any 
settlement  he  was  unable  to  resist  his  fondness  for  stim- 
ulants, yet  he  was  honest  and  faithful  to  the  core,  as  Limber 
knew.  The  plan  of  sending  him  to  the  place  would  be  an 
advantage  to  him  as  well  as  to  Powell. 

The  doctor  spent  much  of  his  time  at  the  Diamond  H, 
while  awaiting  replies  to  his  communications  with  various 
architects  and  managers  of  sanitaria,  in  Europe  as  well  as 
America. 

Entering  the  dining-room  for  breakfast  one  morning, 
Nell,  with  cheeks  flushing  and  eyes  sparkling,  and  every 
movement  radiating  happiness,  glanced  out  the  window 
across  the  wide  valley  toward  Fort  Grant. 

"Isn't  this  a  wonderful  place  I"  she  exclaimed  turning 
from  the  window  and  dropping  into  her  chair  at  the  table. 
"It  is  good  just  to  be  alive  in  this  big,  free  country!" 

"I  am  having  two  hundred  cows  branded  for  you,  Nell," 
spoke  Traynor  as  she  handed  him  his  coffee.  "It's  your 
pin-money,  and  Jamie  will  start  his  herd  with  fifty  cows. 
Limber  is  fixing  up  a  special  brand  for  each  of  you." 

"Allan!  You  darling!"  gasped  Nell,  then  she  darted 
around  the  table  to  where  her  husband  sat  and  dropped  a 
swift  kiss  on  his  forehead  when  he  looked  up  at  her  with 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  133 

laughing  eyes.  Fong,  who  had  just  entered  with  a  plate 
of  famous  pop-overs,  grinned  sentimentally,  and  Nell,  blush- 
ing furiously,  resumed  her  vacated  chair. 

"I'm  beginning  to  'act  up,'  as  Bronco  calls  it.  But  now 
I  understand  why  cowpunchers  race  their  ponies  and  shoot 
their  guns.  I'd  like  to  'whooper  up'  myself,  this  morn- 
ing," she  finished  with  a  little  laugh. 

"Dangerous  condition,"  pronounced  the  doctor  gravely. 
"I'd  prescribe  a  good,  hard  ride  as  the  only  hope  for  im- 
provement. ' ' 

"All  right,"  responded  Traynor  with  twinkling  eyes. 
"Get  your  togs  on,  Nell.  We'll  all  go  to  the  big  rodeo  at 
Box  Springs.  You'll  get  a  faint  idea  of  range  work,  and 
now  that  you  have  your  own  herd,  you  should  learn  how 
to  run  it." 

"Limber  is  showing  me  how  to  throw  a  rope,"  Jamie 
broke  in  eagerly,  and  he  scrambled  from  his  chair,  clutching 
his  new  sombrero  that  he  had  deposited  on  the  floor  by  his 
chair,  the  way  he  noticed  the  cowboys  all  did.  "Yesterday 
I  mounted  my  pony  all  alone.  I  can  saddle  him,  too — 
but  Limber  has  to  pull  the  cinches  tight."  With  this  final 
declaration,  he  hurried  through  the  door,  his  tiny  spurs 
clicking  importantly  on  the  cement  walk. 

The  greyhound  pack  yelped  shrill  protests  at  being  left 
behind  when  they  saw  Nell  and  Jamie  were  in  the  party. 
Then  Traynor  and  Powell  mounted  their  own  horses  and 
the  four  swung  along  the  road  in  a  steady  lope  toward  the 
Galiuro  mountains,  west  of  the  ranch. 

When  they  reached  Box  Springs,  Nell's  first  impression 
was  a  dense  cloud  of  dust  stirred  up  by  the  restless  hoofs 
of  thousands  of  cattle.  Then  she  saw  the  chuck-wagon, 
where  the  camp  cook  was  busy  with  his  pots  and  pans  over 
a  fire  of  smouldering  oak  logs.  Near  the  mountains  four 
or  five  thousand  head  of  bawling  cattle,  with  cowpunchers 
dashing  to  and  fro  among  them,  gave  the  appearance  of 
wildest  confusion.  Yet,  to  the  initiated,  the  system  was 
perfect.    Part  of  the  cattle  were  bunched  and  herded  by 


134.  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

certain  men,  while  others  rode  through  the  weaving,  tossing 
mass  of  horns,  deftly  picking  their  way  and  'cutting  out' 
some  particular  animal." 

Nell  watched  it  all  with  frank  delight  and  curiosity,  and 
appealed  to  her  husband  from  time  to  time.  "What  are 
they  doing  in  that  bunch  where  Limber  is  riding?" 

"  ' Cutting, '  "  was  the  answer.  "Watch  Limber.  See 
how  he  picks  a  cow  and  follows  it  up?  Peanut  is  a  won- 
derful 'cutting  pony. '  He  seems  to  know  just  what  Limber 
is  thinking,  and  once  Peanut  points  the  right  cow,  he  never 
lets  it  get  away  from  him  till  it  is  out  of  the  bunch  and 
where  it  belongs.  He's  the  champion  cutting  pony  of 
Arizona.  Limber  can  use  a  light  cord  instead  of  reins. 
No  one  but  Limber  ever  rides  Peanut.  He  turns  so  quickly 
he  would  throw  any  other  man.     Watch  him,  Nell!" 

Powell  and  Nell  lost  no  movement  of  the  pinto  pony  and 
its  master,  now  following  a  big,  bald-faced  steer.  The  ani- 
mal, knowing  it  was  being  singled  out,  twisted  and  dodged 
adroitly  from  side  to  side.  Then,  finding  its  attempts  to 
escape  in  vain,  it  made  a  sudden  dash  from  the  herd  and 
tore  wildly  toward  the  mountains  back  of  the  camp.  Pea- 
nut, his  little  pinto  body  hugging  low  to  the  ground,  his 
hoofs  tossing  clods  of  dirt,  kept  close  behind  the  steer. 
Limber,  leaning  slightly  forward  in  his  saddle  held  a  coiled 
rope  in  his  hand. 

Only  a  few  feet  separated  them,  when  the  steer's  hoof 
struck  a  prairie-dog  hole,  and  it  went  down  with  a  crash. 
Those  who  watched  gave  an  involuntary  cry.  Peanut,  too 
near  to  stop  or  turn  aside,  reached  the  fallen  steer  just  as 
it  started  to  rise. 

Without  a  second's  hesitation,  the  gallant  little  pony 
leaped  over  the  steer,  whirled  and  raced  after  it  as  it  scur- 
ried in  the  opposite  direction. 

A  yell  of  admiration  sounded  from  all  the  cowboys ;  they 
knew  how  close  had  been  the  danger  to  pony  and  rider. 
Nell  gasped  in  terror  and  amazement. 

"That's  the  finest  bit  of  riding  I've  ever  seen!"  Traynor 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  135 

enthused.  "Why,  no  one  but  Limber  and  Peanut  could 
have  done  it!  The  steer  was  almost  on  his  forefeet  when 
the  pony  jumped.  If  the  horse  had  missed,  or  waited  an 
instant,  it  might  have  meant  a  broken  neck  for  both  man 
and  horse ! ' ' 

"It  was  magnificent!"  Powell  exclaimed  in  accents  of 
hearty  admiration.  "But,  I  suppose  Limber  counts  it  all 
in  1he  clay's  work  and  nothing  more." 

"That's  just  it,"  was  the  answer  from  the  Boss  of  the 
Diamond  II.  "It's  a  game  of  chance  each  day  when  you 
ride  the  open  range." 

Limber  had  succeeded  in  driving  the  recalcitrant  steer 
into  a  band  of  stock  herded  away  from  the  other  cattle. 

"Why  did  he  have  to  put  it  there?"  Nell  motioned  with 
her  whip. 

"That's  the  'stray  herd,'  "  Traynor  explained.  "You 
see,  Arizona  being  all  open  range,  cattle  mix  indiscrimi- 
nately. Twice  a  year  there  is  a  general  round-up,  or  rodeo. 
Then  notice  is  sent  to  all  ranchers  informing  them  of  the 
itinerary  of  the  work,  which  extends  over  certain  sec- 
tions. ' ' 

They  were  riding  closer  to  the  stray  herd  as  he  spoke, 
and  halted  the  horses  a  little  distance  away. 

"Each  rodeo  has  its  Captain,  who  is  general  manager  for 
the  territory  covered  by  a  number  of  ranches.  All  ranches 
contribute  their  pro  rata  of  men,  horses  and  chuck,  making 
the   work   co-operative." 

"That's  rather  fair  toward  the  small  cattle  owner," 
Powell  interrupted;  "but,  that  is  the  spirit  of  the  country 
here.     A  square  deal  for  all." 

Traynor  nodded  assent.  "Frequently  cattle  are  located 
a  hundred  miles  or  more  from  their  'home  range.'  We 
cut  these  into  the  stray  herd  and  hold  them  till  the  owner 
drives  them  back  to  his  place.  If  he  is  not  represented  at 
the  rodeo,  he  is  notified  and  arranges  to  get  the  animals. 
So,  the  stray  herd  is  an  important  item  in  the  round-up 
work,  you  see." 


136  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

They  had  ridden  around  the  herd  until  reaching  the 
spot  where  a  fire  of  glowing  coals  was  tended  by  a  couple 
of  cowpunchers,  Traynor  said,  "This  is  the  branding  place. 
Look  at  Bronco!" 

He  pointed  the  galloping  horse  that  carried  Bronco. 
' 1  You  11  see  some  pretty  work  now.  Bronco  won  the  champ- 
ionship for  roping  at  the  last  Territorial  contest." 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  Nell.     "It's  all  Greek  to  me." 

"A  steer  is  turned  loose  on  the  open,  then  the  cowpuncher 
takes  after  it,  when  it  has  a  certain  start.  He  must  rope 
it,  throw  it  and  tie  it  so  it  cannot  rise.  Then  he  lifts  his 
hands  in  the  air.  The  time  taken  from  the  start  of  the 
steer  to  the  second  the  man  raises  his  hands,  is  what  de- 
cides the  championship  roping." 

Leaning  forward  eagerly  Powell  and  Nell  watched 
Bronco's  arm  move  swiftly.  The  coiled  riata  in  his  hand 
shot  out  like  a  immense,  writhing  snake.  The  big  loop 
dropped  over  the  calf,  slipped  almost  imperceptibly,  then 
jerked  taut  as  Bronco's  pony  squatted  down  on  its  haunches 
and  the  calf  fell  with  a  heavy  thud.  A  quick  turn  of  the 
wrist,  and  Bronco  had  the  end  of  his  rope  twisted  firmly 
about  the  high  horn  of  his  saddle.  Depending  on  the  pony, 
with  its  braced  feet,  and  alert  eyes,  moving  backward  and 
holding  the  rope  from  slacking,  Bronco  snatched  a  red-hot 
iron  from  the  fire. 

A  curl  of  smoke,  bellow  of  pain,  two  quick  slashes  of  a 
knife.  The  calf  scrambled  up,  a  freshly  burnt  brand  on 
its  hip,  and  its  bleeding  ears,  showing  the  mark  of  its 
owner.  The  animal  stood  bewildered,  snorted,  and  rushed 
with  a  loud  bawl  to  the  cow's  side.  She  had  been  watch- 
ing anxiously.  Now  she  sniffed  at  her  calf,  licked  its 
face  in  sympathy ;  then  with  one  accord  they  scurried  away, 
free  to  go  where  they  pleased,  for  they  were  on  their  home 
range  and  their  troubles  were  over. 

"It  seems  cruel,"  Nell  protested  warmly. 

"It's  the  only  way  to  handle  range  cattle,"  Traynor  re- 
plied.    "Formerly,"  he  was  speaking  to  the  doctor,  "the 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  137 

brands  were  made  as.  large  as  possible — now  we  make  tbem 
as  small  as  legible.  Once  in  a  while  we  still  run  across 
an  animal  with,  three  immense  letters — JIM  or  HUE — 
across  the  entire  side  of  the  brute.  They  were  two  broth- 
ers who  determined  there  should  be  no  dispute  over  their 
respective  ownerships.  It  ruined  the  hide  and  knocked  off 
a  good  sum  on  the  sale  of  the  animal.  Most  brands  are  on 
the  hip  or  hind  quarter.  It's  an  interesting  study  once 
you  get  into  it." 

"Well,  so  long  as  they  brand  the  cattle,  why  cut  the 
ears,  too?  Is  it  necessary?"  Nell's  sympathy  was  still 
with  the  calf. 

"It  settles  ownership  where  a  brand  is  indistinct  or  dis- 
puted for  any  reason?  Branding  is  done  when  the  flies 
are  not  troublesome,  and  calves  still  follow  their  mothers. 
Should  a  calf  escape  branding  at  the  proper  time,  through 
oversight,  it  soon  becomes  large  enough  to  leave  its  mother, 
and  thus  is  hard  to  identify  the  next  rodeo.  So,  if  a  cow- 
boy on  the  range  sees  a  large  calf  with  uncropped  ears,  he 
investigates  at  once." 

"Of  course,"  Powell  asserted,  "I  can  see  the  sense  of  it 
now  that  you  have  explained  it." 

"Well,  even  that  does  not  settle  a  dispute.  The  long- 
eared,  motherless  calves  are  called  mavericks,  or  in  Arizona, 
where  the  Mexican  language  is  used,  orajanos.  The  un- 
written law  of  the  range  gives  an  unmarked  calf  to  the 
fellow  who  catches  it,  so  long  as  it  is  not  with  its  mother, 
you  see.  Naturally,  the  man  on  whose  range  it  is  found, 
is  supposed  to  have  a  stronger  claim.  A  long-eared  calf  is 
a  temptation  for  'sleepering.'  " 

"In  the  name  of  goodness,  Allan,"  said  Nell  in  despair, 
"what  is  'sleepering'?  I  just  get  a  glimmer  of  under- 
standing when  something  new  comes  up  and  I'm  flounder- 
ing worse  than  ever.  I  don't  see  how  any  one  ever  learns 
all  those  terms." 

"Well,"  laughed  Traynor,  "now  you  can  understand 
how  hard  it  was  for  me,  to  learn  it  all.     I  didn't  dare 


138  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ask  questions,  you  see.  Had  to  pretend  I  knew  it  all.  On 
the  range,  naturally,  the  ear-mark  shows  very  plainly  at 
a  distance,  for  the  animal  will  face  any  rider.  If  a  cow- 
puncher  sees  the  calf,  standing  by  its  mother,  bears  the 
same  ear-mark,  he  does  not  inspect  to  see  if  it  is  branded,^ 
unless  he  has  cause  for  suspicion.  The  rustler  knowing 
this,  ear-marks  a  calf  and  takes  chances  on  its  being  dis- 
covered the  calf  has  no  brand.  The  ear-mark  of  calf  tal- 
lies with  that  of  the  mother,  you  see.  When  the  calf  is 
old  enough  to  be  driven  away  from  the  mother,  the  rustler 
finishes  his  work  by  driving  it  away,  then  changes  the  ear- 
mark and  puts  on  his  brand." 

"That's  what  I  should  class  as  scientific  cattle  stealing," 
Powell  decided,  and  Nell  agreed  with  him,  but  before  they 
could  ask  further  questions  they  turned  startled  faces  in 
the  direction  of  an  unclassified  noise. 

The  Boss  of  the  Diamond  II  laughed,  and  pointed  to  the 
camp  cook,  who  held  a  dishpan  and  was  banging  vigor- 
ously on  it  with  a  huge  iron  spoon.  Far  and  near,  the 
cowpunchers  lifted  their  voices  in  the  gleeful  shout, 
"Chuck's  ready!" 

Part  of  the  outfit  remained  on  guard  over  the  cattle, 
while  the  others  raced  their  ponies  pell-mell  to  the  wagon 
near  which  the  noon-day  meal  was  spread. 

"I'm  hungry,"  announced  Nell,  and  without  further 
ceremony  she  led  the  way  on  her  pony  to  join  the  group  of 
men  among  whom  she  recognized  Limber  and  Bronco. 


CHAPTER  FIFTEEN 

AS  Nell  approached  the  chuck-wagon,  the  eyes  of  the 
cowpunchers  of  the  many  ranches  represented, 
looked  at  her  with  open  approval,  not  unmixed 
with  curiosity,  for  they  all  had  heard  the  episode  of  Wal- 
ton's green  whiskers,  and  the  romantic  meeting  of  the  Boss 
of  the  Diamond  H  and  the  girl  to  whom  he  had  been  en- 
gaged in  the  East. 

Bronco  helped  her  down  from  her  pony,  and  escorted  her 
to  a  seat  of  honour — an  empty  box  that  had  formerly  held 
canned  tomatoes.  The  men  sat  tailor-fashion  around  the 
canvas  that  did  duty  as  a  table-cloth. 

Nell's  eyes  scanned  the  table.  Granite  pans  full  of 
boiled  potatoes,  frijoles — the  small  red  bean  grown  by 
Mexicans,  which  forms  the  principal  article  of  diet  on  any 
Arizona  ranch — an  enormous  dish  held  a  stew  made  of 
"jerky,"  which  Nell  recognized,  for  she  was  becoming  in- 
itiated into  many  things  that  were  strange.  She  had  seen 
Fong  pounding  strips  of  sun-dried  meat,  and  watched  it 
transformed  to  a  savory  stew,  while  he  explained  that  the 
cowboys  carried  it  in  their  pockets  and  ate  it  without  cook- 
ing. 

She  sniffed  with  appreciation  the  coffee,  and  accepted 
the  big  tin  cup  with  a  smile,  then  added  condensed  milk 
from  the  can  Bronco  passed  to  her. 

"What  lovely  biscuit!"  she  exclaimed,  as  a  white  cloth, 
was  deposited  in  front  her,  and  the  golden  tan  biscuit, 
steaming  hot  were  uncovered.  "I  don't  see  how  it  can  be 
done  without  a  real  stove!"  The  camp  cook  grinned  his 
approval  of  a  woman  of  such  intelligence. 

139 


140  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

The  clatter  of  tin  plates,  iron  knives  and  forks,  was 
broken  with  laughter  or  jokes  by  the  punchers  at  each 
other's  expense.  Life  during  the  rodeo  was  a  combined 
circus  and  school-day  vacation  when  off  duty  with  the  herd. 
Then,  it  was  grim,  hard  work.  The  feeling  of  restraint  at 
first  noticeable  when  Nell  sat  on  her  improvised  throne, 
gradually  evaporated  as  she  joined  in  the  laughter.  It 
vanished  completely  when  she  slipped  from  the  box  to  the 
ground,  to  be  "nearer  the  biscuit,"  she  laughed  as  she 
reached  out  and  appropriated  one. 

Jamie,  seated  between  Bronco  and  Limber,  was  silent  but 
happy,  as  they  acclaimed  him  "one  of  the  Diamond  II  out- 
fit," and  a  "regular  puncher,  now." 

The  first  relay  moved  away,  some  taking  their  places 
with  the  herd  to  allow  the  other  men  their  turn  at  the 
chuck,  but  many  of  them  were  off  duty  for  a  time,  and 
these  loafed  and  talked  together,  the  smoke  of  their  cig- 
arettes forming  tiny  clouds  about  their  heads.  Nell  rose 
and  made  her  way  to  a  fallen  log,  on  which  she  dropped 
with  a  smile  at  Bronco  who  had  followed  her  and  Jamie 
from  the  table. 

While  she  admired  Limber,  there  was  a  boyish  irrepres- 
sibility  about  Bronco  that  made  a  little  bond  between  them. 
He  reached  into  the  breast-pocket  of  his  blue  flannel  shirt 
and  withdrew  the  hand,  partly  closed.  Jamie  looked  at  it 
curiously  as  he  saw  it  was  extended  to  him.  Bronco's  fin- 
gers opened,  and  Nell  and  the  child  stared  at  a  strange 
thing  blinking  sleepily. 

"What  is  it?"  they  asked  simultaneously. 

"Horn-toad,"  Bronco  replied.  "Caught  him  this 
mornin'  and  I  was  pretty  sure  you  hadn't  seen  one,  so  I 
kept  him." 

"Won't  he  bite?"  Jamie's  tones  were  doubtful. 

"Not  on  your  life,"  answered  the  cowboy. 

They  regarded  the  little  creature  as  Bronco  put  it  on 
the  ground  and  dragged  a  bit  of  string  from  his  pocket. 
He  tied  this  about  the  toad's  hind  legs  close  to  the  body. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  141 

"Look  at  him,"  was  the  command,  as  Bronco  slid  his 
finger  over  the  rough,  tiny-horned  back  from  tail  to  head. 

With  a  wild  scurry  of  legs,  the  toad  raced  to  the  end  of 
the  string  and  struggled  to  escape;  but,  Bronco's  finger 
touched  its  head  and  moved  gently  toward  the  jerking  tail. 
The  toad's  eyes  closed,  his  head  drooped  toward  the  ground, 
the  legs  and  tail  became  motionless.  Jamie  gave  a  little 
squeal  of  delight,  and  cried,  "He's  gone  to  sleep!" 

"Hang  onto  the  string  a  minit." 

Jamie  clutched  it,  while  Bronco  held  a  consultation  with 
the  cook  at  the  tail-board  of  the  chuck-wagon.  Soon  he 
returned  with  a  small,  empty  match-box. 

"This '11  make  a  fine  wagon,"  he  announced,  tying  the 
match-box  to  the  end  of  the  string.  "Now,  thar  we  are! 
All  you  gotter  do  to  make  him  move  lively  is  run  your 
finger  'long  his  back  like  I  done,  and  contrarywise,  from 
his  head  to  his  tail,  if  you  want  him  to  stop.  When  I  was 
a  kid  in  Texas,  me  an'  my  little  brother  uster  catch  'em 
and  have  races  this  way." 

A  grin  spread  over  his  face  and  he  looked  up  at  Nell, 
"Say,  Mrs.  Traynor,  Maw  hated  horn-toads.  Bill  an'  me 
rounded-up  twenty  of  'em  onct,  and  hid  'em  in  a  closet  in 
a  box.  The  box  got  upsot  someways  in  the  night,  and 
when  Maw  got  up  to  start  breakfast  you  never  heerd  such 
a  whoop !  She  put  her  foot  on  one  of  'em.  It  didn't  hurt 
the  toad  for  she  took  her  foot  off  too  quick,  but  Bill  an  me 
never  brung  any  more  into  the  house  after  that  mornin'. 
You  see,  when  she  put  down  her  other  foot,  she  hit  another 
toad,  an'  that  room  was  jest  naturally  alive  with  'em.  We 
rounded-up  the  whole  herd,  twenty  of  'em,  but  Maw  said 
she  knewed  thar  was  a  thousand  and  the  rest  of  'em  got 
away. ' ' 

"I'm  rather  inclined  to  sympathize  with  your  mother, 
Bronco,"  was  Nell's  laughing  comment.  She  shuddered, 
"Those  little  sharp  horns  are  bad  enough  to  step  on  with 
a  bare  foot,  but  to  feel  the  horns  moving  would  be  rather 
upsetting,  I  should  think. ' ' 


142  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"It  was,"  Bronco  rejoined  soberly.  "But  Maw  wasn't 
so  upsot  as  we  kids  was — afterwards." 

Jamie  devoted  himself  to  his  new  pet,  and  Nell's  eyes 
wandered  to  her  husband  and  Doctor  Powell  who  were 
talking  with  another  man,  not  far  away.  She  saw  this 
man  had  a  grizzly  beard  that  seemed  never  to  have  been 
cropped  or  shaven.  The  dry  skin  of  neck  and  throat  was 
wrinkled  and  the  texture  and  colour  of  a  piece  of  Arizona 
jerky  from  long  exposure  to  the  sun  and  wind.  On  his 
head,  an  old  straw  hat  was  guiltless  of  a  crown,  but  flaunted 
two  dilapidated  turkey  quills.  Tufts  of  unkempt  hair 
peered  inquisitively  over  the  broken  edges  above  the  ragged 
brim.  A  grim  mouth  made  a  repository  for  a  corn-cob 
pipe,  and  suspicious  grey  eyes  squinted  from  Powell's  face 
to  that  of  the  Boss  of  the  Diamond  H. 

Bronco  saw  her  interest,  and  explained,  "That's  Paddy 
Lafferty,  owns  the  PL  ranch  and  herd,  that  the  doctor 
Aggers  on  buyin',"  then  Nell  recalled  the  many  stories  she 
had  already  heard  of  this  eccentric  character.  Paddy's 
eyes  caught  hers,  and  she  flushed  guiltily  as  she  glanced 
away  quickly. 

"It's  a  dandy  rodeo,"  she  heard  Bronco's  voice  beside 
her,  as  he  sat  on  the  ground,  knees  drawn  up,  his  muscular 
hands  busy  rolling  a  cigarette. 

"I  suppose  I'll  get  used  to  wild  cattle  after  a  while," 
Nell  hazarded,  "but,  honestly,  Bronco,  I'm  afraid  of  them. 
Their  horns  are  so  big  and  sharp." 

"Why!"  the  cowpuncher's  amazement  was  undisguised. 
"These  is  short-horns!  We  ain't  got  no  long-horns  on  the 
range.  You'd  oughter  seen  some  of  the  ol'  Texas  long- 
horns  we  uster  have.  Lots  of  times  the  horns  was  so  wide 
we  couldn't  get  a  steer  loaded  into  a  box-car  till  we'd 
sawed  off  the  horns.  And  wild — "  he  paused  for  adequate 
words  before  he  finished,  "Say,  they  was  a  cross  between 
a  deer  an'  a  mountain-lion,  so  fur  as  disposition  counts!" 

"Well,  I  never  feel  safe  except  on  my  pony." 

"Say,   Mrs.   Traynor,   you're   dead  safe  anywheres   in 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  143 

Arizona,"  the  cowboy  assured  her  earnestly.  "Why,  if 
you  was  to  walk  over  to  that  air  herd,  you'd  stampede  it 
quick  as  a  wink!" 

Nell  turned  on  him  with  dancing  eyes,  "For  gracious r 
sakes,  Bronco !     Am  I  such  a  scarecrow  as  all  that  ? " 

Bronco's  face  and  ears  grew  red.  "Oh,  shucks!  I 
didn't  mean  to  say  it  that  way.  But — you  see — range- 
stock  is  uster  seein'  men,  foot  or  horseback — a  woman  in 
petticoats  is  a  new  critter  to  'em  and  plumb  paralyzes  a 
herd.  Thar  was  one  time,  though,"  he  continued  mourn- 
fully, "I  wisht  so  hard  I  was  a  woman  that  I  derned  nigh 
prayed  for  petticoats." 

He  was  immersed  in  deep  thought  for  a  few  seconds,  and 
then  he  demanded  suddenly,  "Did  the  Boss  ever  tell  you 
about  the  time  I  fooled  myself  into  thinkin'  I  was  a  bull- 
fighter?" 

' 'No,"  was  the  reply,  "but  please  tell  me,  won't  you?" 

"I  don't  mind  it  so  much,  now,"  Bronco  grinned,  "but 
thar  was  a  time  when  it  sure  made  me  sore  to  talk  about 
it.  You  see,  I  been  to  Mexico  and  seed  a  Mex  bull-fighter. 
The  feller  what  fit  the  bull  belt  a  red  handkerchee  out  in 
front  of  him,  and  when  the  bull  lit  out  for  him,  he  jest 
stepped  one  side  and  the  bull  went  runnin'  past  with  the 
handkerchee  hangin'  over  his  eyes,  like  a  widder's  veil. 
Then  the  feller  stuck  a  bunch  of  ribbons  on  the  bull  and 
made  it  madder 'n  a  hornet,  an'  you  can't  blame  a  bull  for 
gettin'  mad  at  being  laughed  at  that  way.  It  looked  so 
easy  that  I  thought  it  wasn  't  no  trick  noways — and  I  made 
up  my  mind  I'd  do  it  myself,  sometime."  Nell  faced  him 
expectantly. 

"Well,  one  day  I  was  ridin'  over  from  Hot  Springs  by 
the  Mud  Springs  trail,  and  it  was  near  supper  time,  when 
the  sun  went  down.  I  had  twelve  miles  to  ride  and  we 
had  a  cranky  cook  at  the  ranch,  an'  I  hadn't  et  anythin' 
since  five  o'clock,  sun-up.  So,  when  I  seen  smoke  comin' 
from  the  camphouse  at  Mud  Springs,  you  kin  bet  I  humped 
along  pretty  lively. 


144  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"A  feller  from  the  east  was  stayin'  thar  fer  his  health. 
He  was  all  alone,  an'  glad  to  have  some  one  call  on  him 
fer  a  change.  I  made  myself  as  entertainin'  as  I  knowed 
how,  hopin'  fer  an  invite  to  chuck.  He  cooked  over  a  camp- 
fire,  and  said  he  wanted  to  get  as  near  to  Nature  as  he 
could ;  but  I  couldn't  see  any  sense  in  what  he  said.  Whilst 
he  kept  on  cookin'  supper  an'  not  savin'  anythin'  about 
expect  in'  me  to  stay,  I  kept  playin'  fer  time. 

"Thar  wras  an  ol'  buckskin  cow  standin'  near  in  the 
brush,  and  I  tol'  him  about  the  bull-fight.  He  got  inter- 
ested, and  I  begin  to  see  some  chance  of  chawin'  that  grub 
before  long.  Then  I  got  smart  and  offered  to  show  him 
how  they  done  it.  He  said  I'd  better  not  try  it.  Of 
course,  I  was  only  bluffin'  at  first,  but  when  he  said  that, 
it  called  my  bluff.  I  ambled  over  to  thet  ol'  buckskin  bag 
o'  bones  and  guv  her  a  crack  over  the  ridge-pole  with  my 
riata,  but  she  never  even  looked  at  me.  She  was  thet  ol' 
thet  she  must  of  been  one  of  the  great-grandmothers'  of  the 
herd,  and  when  I  seen  that  I  got  brash."  Bronco  stared 
across  space,  his  hands  dropping  limp  between  his  knees. 

"I  caught  holt  of  her  tail  and  twisted  it,  then  I  slapped 
her  jaw.  She  woke  up  some,  an'  I  danced  in  front  of  her 
like  a  locoed  ijit,  wavin'  my  red  handkerchee  an'  yellin' 
like  an  Apache  on  the  war-path.  She  guv  one  beller,  put 
her  nose  to  the  ground  and  come  at  me  in  dead  earnest  to 
make  me  understand  that  a  lady  cow  her  age  can't  be 
trifled  with. 

"The  tenderfoot  yelled,  "Look  out!"  and  made  for  a 
walnut  tree  and  shinnied  up  it,  and  thar  he  set  peepin '  out 
like  a  skeered  chipmunk.  I  wisht  I  was  up  thar  longside 
of  him,  but  had  to  get  busy  doin'  what  the  bull-fighter  done. 
So,  I  stood  thar  and  helt  that  durned  handkerchee  out  in 
front  of  me,  jest  like  I  seed  him  do,  but,  honest  Injun! 
I'd  ruther  hed  a  solid  adobe  wall  in  front  of  me  just  then. 
Well,  that  doggone  animile  got  five  feet  away,  and  then  I 
seen  that  she  had  both  eyes  wide  open,  instead  of  shettin* 
her  eyes  like  a  bull  does  when  he  charges. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  145 

"It  paralyzed  me  so  I  f ergot  to  move  thet  piece  of  red 
ealicer  and  jest  stood  thar  holdin'  it  in  front  of  me,  whilst 
that  damned  tenderfoot  was  whoopin'  and  screechin'  his 
head  off,  'She's  a  comin'!  She's  a  comin'!'  Jest  as  if  I 
didn't  know  it  a  heap  sight  better 'n  he  did!  Thar  wasn't 
any  chanct  left  to  run,  and  that  ol'  cow  sure  did  come. 

"She  hit  me  squar  and  knocked  the  wind  plum  outen 
me,  and  I  went  down  an'  chawed  adobe  dirt.  She  made 
holes  all  over  my  clothes,  tromped  me  from  head  to  foot, 
rolled  me  over  and  over  like  I  was  a  chunk  of  biscuit  dough, 
then  she  guv  a  snort  and  went  off  in  the  brush."  Nell's 
eyes  were  dancing  and  she  leaned  forward  eagerly. 

"I  picked  myself  up,"  his  voice  was  mournful,  "just  as 
the  tenderfoot  dumb  down  from  his  perch.  Neither  one 
of  us  said  a  word.  He  was  too  scairt  to  talk  and  I  was  too 
mad.  The  coffee  pot  was  upset,  the  dinner  burnt  to  a 
cinder.  I  got  on  my  horse  and  hit  the  trail  for  home.  I 
tol'  the  boys  that  my  pony  slid  down  the  side  of  a  cailon 
with  me,  and  they'd  never  knowed  the  difference  if  that 
damned  tenderfoot  hadn't  come  a  humpin'  down  the  next 
day  to  see  if  I  was  hurt  very  bad."  He  heaved  a  sigh,  and 
kicked  at  a  stone  beside  his  foot. 

"I  got  even  with  thet  ol'  cow,  though.  She  was  in  the 
last  bunch  we  shipped  for  Kansas  City,  and  I  seen  to  it 
that  she  didn't  get  cut  outen  the  herd.  But,  I'll  never  for- 
get her  so  long  as  thar  is  a  buckskin  cow  in  Arizona  Ter- 
ritory. The  boys  won't  give  me  a  chanct;"  he  paused, 
gazed  reflectively  across  the  Valley,  then  added  dolefully, 
"I'll  never  be  happy  until  I  see  some  bigger  fool  than  my- 
self, buyin'  all  the  ol'  buckskin  cows  in  Arizona  to  ship 
'em  down  to  Mexico  for  bull  fights." 

Nell's  laughter  reached  Powell,  Traynor  and  Paddy  as 
they  approached  where  she  sat. 

"This  is  Paddy  Lafferty,  Nell,"  said  Traynor.  "He 
has  given  an  option  on  his  ranch  and  cattle  to  Doctor 
Powell." 

She  looked  up  at  a  tall,  gaunt  old  man  with  stooping 


146  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

shoulders  and  joints  that  seemed  to  be  held  together  by- 
loose  wires,  like  a  jointed  doll  subjected  to  much  handling. 

Paddy  regarded  Nell  sharply  from  under  his  ragged  eye- 
brows, but  as  she  rose  and  held  out  her  hand,  smiling  into 
his  face,  she  unconsciously  won  a  loyal  friend. 

He  squatted  down  on  the  ground  beside  her  and  listened 
to  her  merry  comments  on  the  cattle  business.  Limber  and 
Bronco,  a  short  distance  away  on  their  ponies,  noted  the 
episode. 

"She's  sure  a  thoroughbred  prize-winner!  Ain't  she, 
Limber?"  observed  Bronco  admiringly. 

"You  bet!  She  gets  her  brand  on  every  cowpuncher 
that  comes  on  her  range,  and  the  Kid  is  jest  the  same." 

"Oh,  say!  Loco's  here.  Lookin'  for  a  job.  Green 
"Whiskers  sol'  out  last  week.  Went  back  to  Utah,  Loco 
says.  He's  sure  aching  to  get  married,"  grinned  Bronco. 
"It's  kept  him  busy  shavin'  and  cuttin'  his  hair,  lately." 

"Loco's  a  good  roper.  Of  course,  he  gets  them  crazy 
fits,  but  he's  never  harmed  any  one  round  here.  Well 
need  some  extra  hands,  now,  with  Doctor  Powell  buy  in' 
Paddy's  herd.  We'll  have  to  tail  'em  in,  so  I'll  see  the 
Boss  about  hirin'  Loco  whilst  we  got  a  chanct  to  get  him." 

Bronco  nodded,  for  tailing  a  herd  meant  extra  work,  as 
each  animal  had  to  be  caught,  the  long  hair  on  its  tail  cut 
off,  and  thus  a  tally  of  numbers  was  made  without  re- 
branding.  It  was  only  done  when  an  entire  herd  was  sold 
and  the  brand  included  in  the  sale. 

"Tell  him  about  that  mix-up  in  the  strays,"  called  Bronco 
after  Limber,  as  the  foreman  rode  toward  Traynor. 

While  Limber's  pony  rubbed  noses  with  Traynor 's  horse, 
Limber  suggested  employing  Loco.  Traynor  assented 
readily.  Then  Limber  continued,  "I  don't  know  just  how 
to  figger  it  out,  but  some  one's  tryin'  to  make  trouble  for 
the  Diamond  II." 

"How's  that?"  demanded  Traynor,  quickly. 

"Well,  two  weeks  ago  Bronco  seen  a  Diamond  II  calf, 
new-branded,  following  a  Bar  77  cow.     He  thought  it  was 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  147 

just  a  mistake,  so  vented  it.  Then  a  few  days  later  me  and 
Holy  run  into  two  calves  with  the  Diamond  II  and  one  was 
followin'  a  Fly-in*  V  cow,  and  the  other  was  suckin'  a  Three 
Moon.  We  straightened  that  out,  and  since  then  we've 
come  across  six  calves  marked  with  the  Diamond  H  and 
every  durned  one  of  'em  is  suckin'  a  cow  with  a  different 
brand.     We  got  to  stop  it  quick." 

Traynor's  eyebrows  knit  angrily,  "Any  of  them  here?" 

"Four  in  the  stray  herd,"  Limber  replied,  and  without 
further  conversation  they  rode  to  the  strays,  where  several 
neighbouring  ranchers  and  a  few  cowpunchers  sat  on  their 
ponies.  They  looked  curiously  at  Traynor  and  his  men, 
who  met  the  looks  steadily. 

"Limber  has  just  reported  to  me  about  these  calves  with 
the  Diamond  H  brand,"  he  scanned  each  face  for  sign  of 
disbelief.  "I  don't  think  it  is  necessary  for  me  to  say  that 
not  one  of  the  men  belonging  to  the  Diamond  II  ranch 
branded  those  calves.  A  single  instance  might  occur  to 
any  one,  as  you  all  know,  but  this  is  being  done  systemati- 
cally, and  evidently  with  the  intention  of  causing  hard 
feelings.  If  any  of  you  hear  or  see  any  more  of  this  work, 
let  me  know  at  once,  and  help  me  find  out  who  is  at  the 
bottom  of  it.  I'll  pay  five  hundred  dollars  for  proof 
against  the  man  who  is  putting  my  brand  on  these  calves. 
I  will  report  this  to  the  Live  Stock  Sanitary  Board  at  once, 
and  advertise  my  offer  of  reward." 

He  turned  to  Limber  and  Bronco,  saying,  "Cut  out  those 
calves  and  vent  them  at  once,  boys,"  and  they  hastened  to 
obey. 

"None  of  us  laid  the  blame  on  the  Diamond  H,"  said 
Jones,  who  owned  the  Flying  V  Bar.  "None  of  us  knew 
about  this  work  until  Limber  told  us  and  pointed  out  the 
calves  in  the  stray  herd.  The  fellow  who  is  doing  this 
would  treat  any  of  us  the  same  way,  and  it's  things  like 
this  that  start  real  trouble.  We've  got  to  work  together 
to  catch  him.  When  we  do,  we'll  run  him  out  of  the  coun- 
try." 


148  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Better  keep  him  in  the  country,  under  six  feet  of 
earth,"  growled  Holy  with  a  few  complimentary  remarks, 
then  he  glanced  around  quickly  to  see  whether  Nell  were 
within  earshot. 

And  as  a  result  of  this  episode,  a  week  later  Traynor  ad- 
vertised offering  five  hundred  dollars  reward  for  detection 
of  the  trouble-maker,  while  an  additional  five  hundred  dol- 
lars was  offered  by  the  combined  other  cattlemen  whose 
calves  had  been  misbranded;  but  from  that  time  on  there 
was  no  cause  for  further  complaint.  The  matter  remained 
a  mystery. 


I 


CHAPTER  SIXTEEN 

44  "IT  THINK  I  will  go  over  to  the  Springs  in  the  morn- 
ing," said  Powell  to  Traynor  a  week  after  the 
rodeo,  as  they  sat  in  the  court  enjoying  after-dinner 
cigars. 

"Oh,  by  the  way,"  Traynor  interjected,  "I  had  a  talk 
with  Paddy  yesterday.  He  wants  the  privilege  of  staying 
at  the  PL  ranch  house  for  a  month  after  the  cattle  are 
tallied  in.  I  rather  believe  the  old  fellow  hates  to  leave  the 
place." 

1 '  How  about  arranging  to  have  him  stay  permanently  1 ' ' 
suggested  Powell.  "Limber  says  some  one  would  have  to 
be  there  to  look  after  the  windmill  and  water. ' ' 

' '  I  think  Paddy  would  be  glad  to  do  it.  He  hates  moun- 
tain work,  but  he's  good  anywhere  on  the  flats,  and  he's 
as  honest  as  the  sun.  With  Limber  at  the  Springs  working 
across  the  backbone  of  the  Galiuros,  we  would  consolidate 
the  work  of  both  ranges,  and  our  relative  expenses  could 
be  adjusted  without  difficulty.  I  believe  Paddy  would  be 
glad  to  take  a  small  sum  monthly,  and  have  his  grub  pro- 
vided, and  feed  for  that  scarecrow  of  a  horse  that  he  thinks 
so  much  of." 

"Won't  you  need  Limber  here?"  protested  Powell. 

"I  can  arrange  the  work  with  him  so  that  he  can  stay 
part  of  each  week  at  the  Springs.  So  you  need  not  hesi- 
tate on  that  account.  We  have  to  ride  in  the  Hot  Springs 
section  every  few  weeks.  Many  of  our  cattle  drift  over 
there.  It's  a  wild  range,  and  unless  the  men  ride  among 
the  stock  at  frequent  intervals,  the  cattle  become  too  wild 
to  be  handled  to  an  advantage.     There  are  five  and  six 

149 


150  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

year  old  steers  back  in  the  mountains  there,  that  will  never 
be  caught  except  with  a  bullet — and  even  then  you  would 
have  to  have  the  wind  in  your  favour  to  get  in  range.  They 
are  worse  than  deer." 

"Suppose  I  talk  to  Limber?  I  don't  want  him  to  go 
unless  he  wishes  it." 

"He's  taken  a  liking  to  you,"  was  Traynor's  reply,  "and 
I'm  sure  the  plan  will  suit  him.  But,  decide  that  for  your- 
selves. If  he  doesn't  want  to  go,  Bronco  or  Holy  would 
do,  but  Limber  would  be  more  congenial,  I  thought," 

"Limber  is  one  of  the  finest  characters  I  have  ever  met," 
was  Powell's  remark  as  he  rose  and  moved  toward  the  en- 
trance of  the  court  leading  to  the  bunk-house.  "I'll  have 
a  talk  with  him,  now." 

A  light  streamed  from  the  open  door  of  the  bunk-house 
where  the  cowpunchers  sat  smoking  anc]  talking.  Bronco, 
at  a  small  table,  was  immersed  in  the  pages  of  a  gigantic 
mail  order  catalogue.  A  sheet  of  paper  and  bottle  of  ink 
portended  a  purchase.  Powell  sauntered  in,  found  a  seat 
on  an  iron  cot,  lit  a  cigarette  and  glanced  around  at  them 
all.  It  was  a  delicate  compliment  that  no  one  greeted  his 
entrance  formally.  It  proved  that  he  was  "one  of  the 
bunch." 

Bronco's  face  was  contorted  as  he  began  writing  on  the 
printed  order  sheet  of  the  merchant  enterprising  enough 
to  send  out  catalogues  broadcast.  It  was  good  business 
strategy,  for  when  the  long  winter  evenings  held  forth,  the 
big  catalogue  was  the  center  of  attraction  on  many  ranches, 
and  thus  articles  were  ordered  with  sublime  disregard  as 
to  utility  or  cost. 

"What  you  sendin'  fer  this  time,  Bronc?"  questioned 
Holy,  curiously. 

"Accorjon,"  the  reply  was  punctuated  with  scratching 
pen  that  spluttered  ink  over  the  order  list.  "Thar's  a  book 
goes  with  it,  tellin'  you  how  to  play  in  two  hours." 

"Say,"  Roarer  leaned  forward  with  interest,  "why  don't 
you  get  a  talkin'  machine  like  the  feller  that  spit  his  teeth 


Wt 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  151 

out.     Look  'em  up.     We  could  chip  in  and  get  one,  maybe. 
It'd  be  easier  on  you — an'  us,  too." 

With  Powell's  aid  a  small  talking-machine  was  decided 
upon,  and  Bronco  conscientiously  inked  out  the  previous 
order  and  substituted  the  latest  one.  Then  each  man  in- 
sisted that  the  record  of  his  favourite  "tune"  be  included 
— Golindrina,  Over  the  Waves,  Where  is  my  Wandering 
Boy  Tonight,  Home,  sweet  Home,  and  My  Bonnie  lies  over 
the  Ocean — exhausted  their  repertoire. 

"Six,"  announced  Bronco,  "say  that  ain't  enough. 
Why,  we  kin  sing  all  them  without  any  talkin-machine. 
We  want  somethin'  we  don't  sing  ourselves  when  we're 
pun  chin'  cows." 

Powell  came  to  the  rescue,  and  with  his  aid  a  list  was 
completed,  including  some  really  good  music.  He  vetoed 
the  command  to  pick  out  "about  twentjvfive  or  thirty  dol- 
lars' worth." 

"That's  a  heap  sight  more  sensible  than  gettin'  a  cob- 
bler's outfit,  like  we  done  the  other  time,"  Limber  com- 
mented with  a  smile. 

In  answer  to  Powell's  evident  desire,  he  continued, 
"Bronc  and  Holy  seen  it  in  the  catalogue,  an'  it  told  how 
much  money  you  could  save  by  mendin'  your  own  shoes. 
It  was  unhandy  havin'  to  pack  our  boots  to  Willcox  all  the 
time.  Mostly  we'd  forgot  to  take  'em,  or  else  forgot  to 
bring  'em  home.  We  all  rounded  up  our  boots  and  Bronco 
figgered  that  by  mendin'   'em,  we'd  save  pretty  near  two 

eeks  pay  each." 

"Well,  it  would  of,"  defended  Bronco,  "But  you  fellers 

ouldn  't  wear  'em  after  I  fixed  'em  all  up,  and  blacked  'em 
too." 

"We'd  a  wore  'em,"  retorted  Roarer  indignantly,  "if  we 
could  of  got  into  'em,  but  you'd  made  'em  all  so  tight  that 
no  one  could  get  a  foot  into  them  shoes.  The  wust  of  it  was 
that  you  went  an'  put  extra  soles  on  our  good  shoes  and 
spiled  'em  along  with  the  rest." 

"Well,  you  seen  me  throw  mine  out  the  same  time  you 


152  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

fellers  chucked  yours  into  the  dump  heap,  didn't  you?" 

Limber's  mouth  twitched  and  his  eyes  twinkled  as  he 
turned  to  Powell,  adding  the  climax, ' '  Say  Doc,  thar  wasn  't 
a  pair  of  boots  or  shoes  that  one  of  us  could  get  into,  and 
the  day  after  Bronc  finished  up  his  work,  we  all  got  in  the 
spring  wagon  and  druv  to  Willcox  in  our  socks  an'  bought 
shoes  for  the  outfit  before  we  could  get  to  work." 

"If  you'd  a  gmv  me  another  chanct,"  protested  Bronco, 
"I'd  knowed  better  what  to  do,  but  anyway,  it  was  a  dandy 
cobbler's  outfit,  and  wuth  the  money  we  guv  for  it." 

"What  became  of  it?"  demanded  Powell  when  his  laugh- 
ter subsided. 

"Thar  was  a  Missionary  come  past  here,  gettin'  money 
for  the  heathens  in  Africa,  and  we  donated  the  outfit  to 
him.  He  shore  seemed  pleased  with  it,  but  we  always  had 
a  sneakin'  notion  the  heathens  wasn't  the  ones  that  used 
it.  That  Missionary  was  like  a  billy-goat,  ready  to  take 
anything  you  guv  him,  from  a  gold-mine  to  a  empty  tin 
tomato  can.  Last  we  seen  of  him  he  was  prospectin'  for 
Hasayampa  Bill's  lost  mine,  but  nobody  ain't  heerd  of  his 
findin'  it,  so  fur." 

"How  did  Hasayampa  lose  the  mine?*"  Powell  inter- 
rupted.    "Or  did  he  really  ever  own  one?" 

"We  seen  the  beginning  of  it,"  Limber  began,  and  Powell 
scenting  a  story,  settled  with  delighted  anticipation. 

"It  started  this  way.  We  was  workin'  the  rodeo  back 
of  Dos  Cabezas  when  we  come  across  a  seven-year  ol'  black 
horse  that  was  an  outlaw.  He  belonged  to  the  Bar  X  Bar 
outfit,  but  they'd  guv  up  tryin'  to  break  him.  For  three 
years  the  Boss  of  the  Bar  X  Bar  hed  offered  each  Fourth 
of  July  to  give  the  horse  to  any  man  what'd  ride  him  to  a 
finish.  Thar  was  lots  that  tried  it.  He  was  a  good  horse 
and  worth  considerable  if  he  was  busted. 

"Hasayampa  was  workin'  with  us.  He'd  been  havin'  a 
streak  of  hard  luck.  His  only  pony  was  lame  and  he 
couldn't  raise  cash  to  buy  another.  You  see,  Hasayampa 
had  tried  to  teach  a  tenderfoot  how  to  play  Stud  poker, 


lo 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  153 

and  that's  about  the  poorest  way  I  know  to  invest  your 
money,  especially  when  the  tenderfoot  is  dressed  like  a 
minister — Hasayampa  oughter  knowed  better. 

"Howsomever,  Hasayampa  bet  his  lame  pony  that  he 
could  ride  that  black  horse,  and  of  course,  everybody  took 
him  up. 

"He  roped  and  throwed  it  without  any  trouble,  and  got 
the  saddle  on  its  back;  then  he  jumped  inter  the  saddle. 
Up  to  then  it  was  easy  work,  but  afterwards — Say,  Doc, 
every  one  knows  that  a  horse  has  only  got  four  feet,  but 
thar  wasn't  a  man  watchin'  that  wasn't  ready  to  bet  it  was 
a  centipede  Hasayampa  was  tryin'  to  gentle.  The  horse 
was  called  Black  Devil,  for  thar  wasn't  a  white  hair  on 
him,  and  he  sure  deserved  the  rest  of  the  name. 

"Hasayampa  stayed  with  him,  all  right,  and  what's  more 
we  all  seen  him  do  it,  an'  I  tell  you  we  whooped  like  Injuns ! 
The  next  clay  Hasayampa  quit  work  and  left  camp,  riding 
his  new  horse  and  leadin'  the  lame  pony,  and  that  was  the 
last  we  seen  of  him  for  over  six  months. 

' '  Then  he  blew  in  at  the  Diamond  H,  riding  his  old  bay 
pony,  but  he  hadn't  mutch  to  say —  Seemed  sorter  down- 
hearted like. 

"Then  some  one  ast  him  what  he  done  with  Black  Devil 
and  this  is  what  he  tol'  us. 

"When  Hasayampa  was  ridin'  Black  Devil  that  day  he 
busted  him,  the  horse  seemed  to  favour  one  hind  foot — 
acted  like  he'd  sprained  it.  When  Hasayampa  started 
doctorin '  it,  he  pretty  near  died  with  suprise,  for  thar  was 
a  nice  little  nugget  of  gold  smashed  on  the  bottom  of 
Devil's  foot,  just  like  a  corn.  Well  Hasayampa  didn't 
ose  no  time  humpin'  up  to  the  placed  he'd  noticed  Devil 
impin',  and  he  posted  his  location  notice  on  the  Buckin' 
Bronco  Mine.  The  lead  was  thar  just  in  plain  sight,  he 
said.  We  all  had  been  campin'  on  a  regular  mint  of  gold 
an'  never  knowed  it.  Leastways,  that  is  what  Hasayampa 
told  us. 

"Well,  he  took  Black  Devil  down  to  the  blacksmith  at 


154  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Dos  Cabezas  and  hed  some  shoes  made  for  him.  He  had 
quite  an  argument  with  the  blacksmith  to  get  him  to  make 
the  shoes  the  way  Hasayampa  wanted  'em.  He  said  that 
after  they  got  through,  the  blacksmith  did  what  Hasayampa 
told  him." 

Limber  paused  to  light  his  cigarette,  and  philosophize, 
"It  don't  pay  to  argue,  if  you  kin  help  it.  Hurts  the  other 
party's  feelin's  when  you  get  the  best  of  him,  an', 
Hasayampa  had  fists  on  him  like  cannon  balls  when  he 
warmed  up  in  a  argument.  All  the  same,  you  can't  blame 
the  blacksmith  for  callin'  Hasayampa  a  'locoed  ijit'  when 
you  knowed  the  sort  of  hoss-shoes  he  ordered  made. ' ' 

"They  was  half-hollow,  as  if  you  dug  a  slot  in  'em  with 
a  jack-knife.  After  Devil  was  shod,  Hasayampa  got  some 
chamois  skin,  quick-silver  and  a  small  retort  and  went  back 
to  his  claim. 

"Now,  here's  what  Hasayampa  tol'  us  all  for  gospel 
truth,  Doc.  He  put  the  quick-silver  in  the  slots  of  them 
hoss-shoes,  then  jumped  on  Black  Devil  and  let  him  buck 
up  an'  down  that  air  claim.  Hasayampa  said  it  beat  any 
four-stamp  mill  he  ever  seed.  Then  he  got  down  and 
scraped  the  silver  outen  the  hoofs,  squoze  it  in  the  chamois 
bag  and  fired  it  in  his  retort  to  separate  the  gold.  Hasay- 
ampa cleaned  up  a  hundred  dollars'  wuth  the  fust  day. 

"It  didn't  take  Black  Devil  long  to  understand  his  job 
o.  k.  That  hoss  would  just  wait  for  his  shoes  to  be  silvered, 
then  go  hisself  and  buck  around,  only  stoppin '  to  come  and 
git  his  shoes  scraped  and  re-filled.  Meanwhile  Hasayampa, 
seein'  Black  Devil  was  handlin'  his  end  of  the  partner- 
ship, put  in  all  his  own  time  runnin'  the  other  end  of  the 
business,  squozin'  the  quick-silver,  firin'  the  gold  and 
mouldin'  it  inter  bricks. 

"Hasayampa  figured  out  jest  how  long  it  would  take  to 
make  him  a  billionaire,  and  he'd  a  done  it  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  the  earthquake  in  May  '91.  It  did  everlastingly  shake 
up  the  country  around  here,  and  lots  of  permanent  springs 
went  plumb  dry  and  never  run  again. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  155 

"Hasayampa  had  gone  to  Willcox  to  ship  some  bricks 
to  the  'Frisco  Mint,  when  he  felt  that  earthquake,  and  he 
begun  to  worry  about  Devil,  for  he  had  turned  him  loose  for 
a  vacation.  He  humped  back  to  the  claim,  and  when  he  got 
thar  he  said  he  seen  a  white  horse  standin'  with  his  head 
hangin'  down  like  he  was  asleep;  but  never  a  sign  of  Black 
Devil  nowhar. 

"  Whilst  he  was  puzzling  over  what  had  became  of  Black 
Devil,  he  swars  he  seen  that  air  white  hoss  raise  his  head, 
lift  his  hind  foot,  then  begin  buckin'  in  a  dazed  sorter  way. 
It  was  Black  Devil,  and  the  shock  hed  turned  his  hair  snow 
white. 

"Hasayampa  said  the  Buckin'  Bronco  Mine  hed  dis- 
appeared off'n  the  face  of  the  yearth.  He  tried  to  make 
Black  Devil  understand  that  he  warn't  to  blame  for  losin' 
the  mine,  but  the  hoss  wouldn't  eat  nothin'.  He'd  just 
buck  around,  feeble-like,  lift  his  leg  and  look  at  it,  and 
then  he  laid  down  an'  died." 

Powell's  laughter  rang  through  the  room.  "What  a 
pity  such  a  genius  as  Hasayampa  had  to  die,"  he  finally 
gasped. 

"Say,  Doc,"  Limber  spoke,  "Hasayampa  onct  said  that 
a  man  back  east  was  willin'  to  pay  for  his  yarns  if  he'd  take 
time  to  write  'em  down.  He  ast  us  what  we  thought  about 
it,  and  we  all  tol'  him  that  if  any  feKer  did  say  that,  he  was 
a  bigger  liar  than  Hasayampa  and  could  write  stories  him- 
self, an'  Hasayampa  said  he  guessed  that  was  true.  Do 
you,  honestly,  believe  anyone  would  of  paid  for  'em?" 

' '  I  certainly  do, ' '  was  the  positive  answer.  ' '  Hasayampa 
deserves  a  monument  to  his  memory !  By  the  way,  I  never 
heard  anyone  tell  how  he  died,  but  I'm  pretty  sure  he  did 
it  in  some  original  way." 

Limber's  face  grew  serious,  and  a  lighted  match  in  his 
hand  flickered  out.     He  watched  it  thoughtfully. 

"Thar  is  a  monument  to  Hasayampa,"  he  said  slowly. 
"  'Tain't  very  big,  nor  very  grand,  and  thar  ain't  many 
people  knows  whar  it  is,  but  it 's  a  monument,  all  the  same. 


156  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Hasayampa  never  tol'  this  story,  but  the  woman  did  tell  it. 

"She  was  jest  a  common  sorter  woman,  not  young,  nor 
pretty,  nor  anything  like  that,  an'  it  was  out  in  the  Yuma 
desert.  Hasayampa  was  prospectin',  and  he  rid  along  past 
the  place  where  she  was  camped  with  her  man.  It's  funny 
that  a  woman  thet  ain  't  married  to  a  man  will  put  up  with 
heaps  of  abuse,  but  them  women  that  hangs  around  mining 
camps  seems  to  think  it  all  goes  in  the  game.  So  when  she 
done  somethin'  that  riled  up  the  man,  he  up  and  busted  her 
over  the  head  with  a  stick  of  wood  and  she  went  down  like 
she  was  dead. 

"Hasayampa  jumped  off'n  his  hoss  and  lit  into  the  man, 
and  the  feller  knifed  him,  then  run  away,  leavin'  Hasa- 
yampa lyin'  thar  a  dyin'. 

1 '  After  awhile  the  woman  come  back  to  her  senses,  and  she 
done  all  she  knowed  how;  but  he  was  too  bad  off.  The 
feller  that  run  was  wanted  for  murder  up  in  Montana,  the 
woman  said.  He  had  took  the  two  horses  they  had  been 
ridin'  and  Hasayampa 's  pony,  too;  but  what  was  wuss  than 
everythin'  else,  he  hed  carted  off  all  the  water  thar  was  in 
their  canteens  and  left  them  without  a  drop. 

"She  said  when  she  told  Hasayampa  that  she  wasn't  a 
respectable  woman — jest  a  camp-follower,  an'  no  decent 
man  had  any  call  to  fight  for  her,  he  jest  looked  at  her  an' 
smiled  an'  said,  "You're  a  woman.  He  hadn't  no  right  to 
hit  you." 

"He  died  that  night  in  the  dark,  and  she  sat  and  helt 
his  hand  till  sun-up,  then  she  scraped  a  shallow  grave  with 
her  bare  hands  and  put  him  in  an'  covered  him  over  the 
best  she  could.  After  that  she  started  to  hunt  the  trail. 
She  walked  around  all  day  and  was  beginning  to  get  desert- 
crazy  when  some  men  found  her.  It  was  too  late.  She 
died  in  a  couple  of  hours,  but  she  tol'  about  Hasayampa 
and  ast  if  they'd  bury  her  alongside  of  him,  because  it 
wouldn't  seem  so  lonesome.  An'  they  done  it.  So  thar's 
a  big  cross  over  them  both,  with  their  names  on  it.  Of 
course,  we  all  knowed  Hasayampa  couldn't  tell  the  truth 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  157 

if  he  tried,  Doc,  but  when  folks  heerd  about  the  way  he 
died,  everyone  took  off  his  hat  to  Hasayampa,  you  bet,  for 
Hasayampa  never  done  dirt  to  nobody." 

"Did  they  catch  the  man?" 

"Not  that  any  one  knowed  of.  That's  one  of  the  things 
that  puzzles  me.  Why  people  what  plays  a  square  game 
is  sometimes  so  out  of  luck.  Seems  as  if  they  must  of  been 
put  down  with  the  grain  of  the  table  runnin'  against  'em 
when  they  was  started  at  the  game,  or  else  the  Dealer 
stacked  the  cards.  But,  it  'tain't  so  mutch  to  a  feller's 
credit  holdin'  a  Royal  Flush  as  it  is  to  keep  on  playin'  a 
square  game  to  a  finish  when  he  ain't  dealt  no  thin'  but 
deuces  and  treys." 

"You're  right,  Limber,"  said  Powell,  who  was  learning 
to  find  the  gold  beneath  the  surface. 

He  moved  to  the  door,  followed  by  Limber,  and  for  a 
second  they  stood  looking  up  into  the  deep  blue  of  the  sky 
where  the  countless  stars,  like  clear-cut  diamonds,  trembled 
and  blinked  as  though  held  on  threads  of  silver  by  the 
mighty  hand  of  the  Creator. 

"Come  into  my  room,"  invited  Powell,  "I  want  to  talk 
business  with  you,  Limber." 

The  cowboy  nodded,  and  when  they  were  seated  and  the 
smoke  of  their  cigars  blended,  Powell  explained  the  plan  of 
combining  the  work  of  the  two  ranges,  adding  as  he  finished ; 
"I  told  Mr.  Traynor  that  it  is  entirely  up  to  you.  I  don't 
want  you  there  unless  you  really  would  like  to  go.  It 
would  double  your  pay  and  make  you  range  foreman  of  all 
of  the  ranches  owned  by  Mr.  Traynor  and  myself.  I  will 
have  my  hands  full,  getting  the  Sanitarium  built,  and  we 
would  leave  the  management  of  my  cattle  business  ab- 
solutely to  you.  How  does  it  strike  you?  Don't  hesitate 
to  speak  plainly." 

"So  fur  as  I'm  concerned,  I'd  ruther  be  over  there.  It's 
this  way,  Doc.  Glendon  ain't  runnin'  very  straight,  and 
nobody  seems  to  give  a  damn  exceptin'  me.  I'd  like  to  do 
what  I  can  for  him,  and  though  I  don't  know  as  I  could 


158  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

do  anythin' — you  never  can  tell  what '11  turn  up.  'Tain't 
right  leavin'  Donnie  and  Mrs.  Glendon  there  by  themselves 
the  way  he  does.  Glen  told  me  he  was  goin'  to  quit  as  soon 
as  he  got  a  chanct;  but  if  he  stays  here  much  longer  he's 
bound  to  mix  up  in  trouble.  He's  runnin'  with  a  pretty 
bad  bunch  now.  Another  thing,"  the  cowpuncher  hesi- 
tated, "Thar's  a  Mexican  girl  named  Panchita.  I  guess 
Mrs.  Glendon  is  about  the  only  one  who  don't  know  about 
her.  Glen's  plumb  locoed  over  the  girl  and  that's  whar 
his  money  goes,  when  he  gets  hold  of  any." 

Powell  started  angrily,  "The  cur !  With  such  a  wife  and 
boy!  Limber,  sometimes  I  feel  ashamed  to  call  myself  a 
man,  when  such  creatures  as  Glendon  are  known  as  men." 

"Mebbe  Glen  don't  figger  just  what  it  is  leadin'  up  to. 
He  was  a  mighty  different  sorter  person  when  he  fust  come 
here,  and  everyone  liked  him.  He'd  get  full  onct  in  a 
while,  but  he  played  white  until  this  last  couple  of  years. 
He's  just  the  wrong  kind  of  a  man  for  Arizona.  Take 
him  some  other  place  and  mebbe  he'd  manage  to  average 
up  pretty  fair  with  the  rest  of  the  bunch;  but  he's  sure 
goin'  the  wrong  trail  here." 

The  cowboy  rose,  and  Powell  held  out  his  hand  impul- 
sively, saying,  "All  right,  Limber.     We  pull  together." 

"So  long  as  you  want  me,  Doc." 

Their  hands  gripped  and  as  they  looked  into  each  other's 
eyes,  both  men  recognized  a  bond  that  was  stronger  than 
blood — the  brotherhood  of  real  men. 

After  Limber  had  gone,  Doctor  Powell  sat  meditating 
over  what  the  cowboy  had  told  him  concerning  Glendon. 
The  wreaths  of  smoke  that  rose  from  his  cigar  framed  a 
shadowy  vision  of  Katherine  Glendon 's  face,  and  Powell 
wondered  vaguely  where  he  had  seen  her  before  they  met 
in  the  cave  near  the  Circle  Cross.  Memory  refused  to  aid 
him. 


CHAPTER  SEVENTEEN 

POWELL  and  Chappo  were  alone  in  the  new  home 
at  Hot  Springs   ranch.     Limber  had  gone  to  the 
Diamond  H  in  order  to  adjust  the  final  details  of 
the  joint  range  work. 

While  the  Mexican  busied  himself  in  the  kitchen,  Powell 
smoked  contentedly  in  the  living-room  as  he  sat  before  the 
fire  of  blazing  mesquite  knots.  He  glanced  about  the 
home-like  place,  with  its  red-shaded  lamp  on  a  large  table 
that  was  strewn  with  magazines.  A  desk  occupied  one  end 
of  the  room  and  book  shelves  held  well-worn  volumes  at  the 
opposite  end.  The  couch,  which  was  covered  with  a  glow- 
ing Indian  blanket  and  mannish  pillows,  harmonized  with 
the  massive  brown  leather  chairs  and  Navajo  rugs  on  the 
floor.     The  pictures  bore  signatures  of  well-known  artists. 

I  'It's  just  what  I've  wanted  all  these  years,"  said 
Powell  aloud.  The  collie  pup  at  his  feet  looked  up  with 
questioning  eyes,  then  telegraphed  reply  with  bushy  tail. 
The  man  leaned  over  and  patted  the  dog's  head  before 
selecting  a  magazine  and  settling  down  for  the  evening. 

II  Buenos  noches,  Senor,"  Chappo  smiled  politely,  his 
shabby  sombrero  in  hand. 

"Buenos  noches,  Chappo,"  answered  Powell,  whose  life 
for  several  years  in  a  South  American  mining  camp  had 
familiarized  him  with  the  language  and  the  type  of  people 
found  in  all  Latin- American  sections.  A  fortunate  mining 
investment  during  those  years  had  awakened  a  love  of  the 
untrammeled  outdoors,  and  also  made  it  possible  for  him  to 
carry  on  his  plans  for  a  sanitarium. 

After  Chappo  had  departed  for  his  bunk-room,  the 
doctor  became  absorbed  in  his  book.     Three  hours  passed, 

15D 


160  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

then  the  drowsing-  collie  started  with  a  muffled  growl  and 
sharply  cocked  ears. 

"What's  the  matter,  old  chap?" 

The  dog  leaped  up  ran  to  the  door  whimpering,  and 
Powell  went  on  the  front  porch.  It  was  too  dark  to  discern 
anything  and  no  unusual  sounds  reached  the  man,  but  the 
dog,  with  a  hysterical  yelp  darted  from  the  porch  into  the 
shadows.  The  short,  sharp  barks  that  broke  the  stillness 
were  barks  of  welcome  such  as  always  greeted  the  doctor 
upon  his  return  to  the  ranch. 

A  woman's  voice  spoke  to  the  dog,  and  Powell  ran 
quickly  in  the  direction  the  collie  had  taken.  The  way  led 
to  the  Circle  Cross;  the  voice  was  that  of  Glendon's  wife. 

"Be  quiet,  Tatters,"  called  Powell.  As  the  noise  abated, 
he  reached  Katherine  Glendon's  side,  and  in  the  faint  light 
saw  that  she  was  carrying  Donnie. 

"Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  are  home!"  she  exclaimed. 
"Donnie  is  hurt,  I  don't  know  how  badly — but  his  arm  is 
broken. ' ' 

Already  the  doctor  had  reached  for  the  child. 

1 '  Let  me  have  him.     Don 't  try  to  explain  anything  now. ' ' 

They  hurried  toward  the  house,  entered  the  room  and 
Powell  laid  the  child  on  the  couch.  The  doctor  knelt  down 
beside  the  almost  unconscious  boy,  then  with  gentle  touch 
felt  the  broken  arm.  Chappo  came  through  the  door,  his 
faded  brown  eyes  were  full  of  pity  as  he  watched  the 
mother  who  stood  with  tightly  gripped  hands  waiting  the 
doctor's  words. 

Donnie  looked  at  her,  his  quivering  lips  showed  the 
effort  to  control  his  emotions  when  he  tried  to  move  his  arm 
and  saw  that  it  was  broken. 

"It  really  don't  hurt  very  much,  Marmee,"  he  said 
stoutly  as  Powell  finished  the  examination  and  rose  to  his 
feet. 

"We'll  fix  you  up  in  no  time,"  the  doctor  announced 
cheerily.  "Nothing  the  matter  with  you  except  a  broken 
bone,  and  that  is  in  the  very  best  place  it  could  happen." 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  161 

He  turned  to  Katherine  and  continued,  " Don't  worry, 
Mrs.  Glendon.  A  healthy  child's  bones  knit  quickly  and 
perfectly.  It's  a  simple  fracture,  fortunately,  and  above 
the  elbow,  so  only  one  bone  to  knit.  He'll  be  playing 
around  tomorrow." 

Powell  left  her  sitting  by  the  couch,  and  Chappo  listened 
carefully  to  the  doctor's  low-voiced  instructions  which 
were  spoken  in  Spanish. 

"I  understand,  Seiior,"  nodded  the  Mexican.  "Lots  of 
times  I  have  helped  when  there  was  no  doctor.  Horses, 
cows,  dogs,  and  people,  all  bones  are  the  same." 

The  books  on  the  table  were  removed  for  rolls  of  band- 
ages and  surgical  splints,  then  Powell  turned  briskly  to 
Donnie  and  put  his  arm  about  the  child's  shoulder  as  he 
said,  "Now,  old  man,  Chappo  and  I  will  take  care  of  that 
arm  for  you.  It  may  hurt  for  a  few  seconds,  but  after  that 
it  won't  bother  you  at  all." 

"Let  him  brace  himself  against  you,  Mrs.  Glendon," 
continued  the  physican. 

Chappo,  at  a  nod  from  the  doctor,  grasped  the  boy's  arm 
and  pulled  steadily.  Donnie 's  face  paled  but  not  a  sound 
escaped  his  tightly  set  lips.  The  doctor's  fingers  pressed 
the  fractured  bone  and  held  it  in  place  while  the  splints 
were  adjusted.  A  sling  in  which  the  hand  rested,  finished 
the  operation,  then  Powell  arranged  the  pillows  on  the 
couch. 

"Take  it  easy  now,  old  man,"  he  said.  "You're  the 
pluckiest  boy  I  ever  knew." 

Donnie  tried  to  smile,  but  tears  filled  his  eyes  and  he 
held  out  his  uninjured  hand  to  his  mother.  She  sat  on  the 
couch  beside  him  smoothing  his  hair  and  talking  in  a  low 
voice,  until  at  last,  wTith  his  right  hand  still  clasped  in  hers' 
he  fell  asleep. 

"All  right  now,"  Powell  assured  her,  as  he  put  away  the 
articles  on  the  table.  "He  is  exhausted  from  the  nerve 
shock,  nothing  more." 

The  doctor  glanced  at  Katherine  and  exclaimed,  "Bless 


162  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

my  heart !     You  need  attention  almost  as  badly  as  Donnie." 

He  left  the  room  and  returned  with  a  glass.  "Just  a 
little  port  wine.     Drink  every  drop  of  it,"  he  ordered. 

Her  hand  shook  as  she  lifted  the  glass  to  her  white  lips, 
then  she  held  out  the  empty  glass  and  sank  into  a  chair  that 
Powell  rolled  before  the  fireplace.  Her  eyes  closed  wearily. 
The  doctor  understood  the  over  taxed  nerves,  and  as  he 
glanced  from  mother  to  child,  a  feeling  of  rage  against 
GJendon  consumed  him.  The  only  sound  in  the  room  was 
the  sputter  of  the  burning  wood.  Katherine  looked 
anxiously  at  the  sleeping  child,  then  at  the  doctor. 

"He's  all  right,"  Powell  answered  her  unvoiced  fear. 
"It  had  been  a  terrible  strain  on  you  both.  The  bone  will 
begin  to  knit  in  a  few  days  and  Donnie  will  have  nothing  to 
remind  him  of  the  accident  in  a  short  time.  It's  part  of  a 
boy's  life  to  have  such  things  as  broken  legs  and  arms,"  he 
smiled. 

"Please  don't  think  I  am  ungrateful.  There  are  some 
emotions  one  almost  cannot  express,  because  we  feel  them 
too  deeply  for  words.     I  don't  know  how  to  thank  you." 

"How  did  it  happen?"  asked  Powell,  trying  to  divert 
her  from  any  sense  of  obligation. 

"It  came  so  suddenly  that  it  dazed  me,"  she  began. 
"Last  summer  the  wall  of  the  bedroom  bulged  and  Juan 
made  new  adobes  to  fix  it ;  but  Mr.  Glendon  has  been  too 
busy  to  attend  to  it.  We  never  thought  of  danger,  for  an 
adobe  wall  often  stands  for  years  with  big  cracks  in  it,  you 
know.  Donnie  was  sleeping  next  to  the  wall  in  my  bed 
when  the  crash  came.  The  wall  fell  outward,  but  part  of 
the  adobe  struck  his  arm.  It  was  dark.  I  spoke  to  him 
and  he  did  not  answer.  I  thought  he  was  dead  until  I 
heard  him  moan."     She  stopped  and  bit  her  lip  fiercely. 

The  doctor  placed  a  fresh  log  on  the  fire,  and  while  he 
prodded  the  embers,  the  woman  gained  control  of  her 
voice. 

"I  lit  the  candle,  but  when  I  looked  at  him  he  was 
unconscious.     I  lifted  him  and  when  the  bed  covers  fell 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  163 

from  his  arm,  I  saw  the  bone  had  been  broken.  Then — I 
thought  of  3-0 u,  and  brought  him  here. ' ' 

Powell  knew  that  her  fear  that  the  child  she  carried 
might  be  dying  in  her  arms,  or  that  she  might  not  lind 
anyone  but  Chappo  at  the  Springs,  must  have  made  the 
three-mile  walk  seem  endless. 

"Were  you  alone?" 

"Yes.  Juan  is  on  the  San  Pedro  for  ten  days  and  my 
husband  went  to  Willcox  yesterday  morning.  He  does  not 
expect  to  return  home  for  a  week.  I  had  no  horse  or  I 
could  have  ridden  here." 

"You  and  Donnie  must  go  to  bed  now  and  rest,"  com- 
manded the  doctor,  cuttng  short  the  words  she  was  about 
to  utter.  "I  have  a  guest  room  and  Chappo  sees  to  every- 
thing necessary,  so  you  need  not  fear  you  are  causing  me 
the  least  inconvenience.  Tomorrow  we  can  drive  down  to 
your  place  and  take  inventory  of  the  damage?  Since  Juan 
has  the  adobes  ready  to  use,  Chappo  and  I  can  fix  up  the 
wall.  I  learned  all  about  adobes  while  I  lived  in  South 
America  eight  years  ago." 

"That  was  the  same  year  we  came  here,"  commented 
the  woman. 

Powell  smothered  an  ejaculation  of  indignation  and 
wonder  at  her  endurance  of  such  a  life.  "Yet,"  he  mused, 
"a  bruised  flower  becomes  more  fragrant."  His  elbow 
rested  on  the  mantle  and  he  looked  down,  studying  her  face 
line  by  line.  Again  that  vague  resemblance  baffled  him 
until  he  recalled  a  stream  near  his  boyhood  home,  where  a 
shallow  current  reached  a  bend  and  formed  a  deep  pool. 
He  had  loved  to  sprawl  on  the  bank  and  gaze  into  the  won- 
derful, ever-changing  reflections,  where  rough  trees  were 
softened,  the  sky  became  more  blue  and  the  many-hued 
flowers  more  beautiful.  It  was  a  magic  pool  to  his  boyish 
eyes;  in  later  years  he  called  it  his  Pool  of  Illusion. 

Down  in  its  mysterous  depths  lived  a  shadowy  form. 
A  woman's  face  with  steadfast  eyes  looked  back  into  his 
own,  understanding  his  unspoken  dreams,  while  her  slender 


164  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

white  hands  were  held  out  to  him.  The  longing  to  touch 
them  was  actual  physical  pain,  and  often  he  dived  into 
the  water,  but  the  vision  vanished  in  the  ripples.  He  had 
gone  his  way,  looking  into  many  women's  faces  in  many 
lands,  always  hoping  to  find  what  he  had  seen  in  his  Pool 
of  Illusion,  but  the  years  of  search  had  been  fruitless. 

Tonight  the  firelight  from  his  hearth  flickered  across 
that  dream  face. 

The  dream  and  reality  blended  so  perfectly  that  it 
startled  him  when  Katherine  rose  from  her  chair  and  held 
out  her  hand,  saying,  "I  do  thank  you  with  all  my  heart. 
I  shall  never  forget  what  you  have  done  for  us.  Maybe 
some  day  I  can  show  my  gratitude." 

"Please  don't  speak  of  it  again,"  he  replied,  and  seeing 
Donnie  on  his  feet,  Powell  added,  "Good  night,  old  man. 

"It's  lucky  that  adobe  fell  on  the  left  hand,  for  it's  much 
harder  to  learn  to  use  it.  My  right  arm  was  broken  when 
I  was  your  age.  It's  funny,  though,  how  quickly  my  left 
hand  learned  to  work  like  its  twin  brother.  After  my  arm 
was  well,  I  used  my  left  hand  much  of  the  time." 

Mother  and  child  entered  the  cheerful  guest  room  and 
for  a  while  Powell  heard  their  voices  through  the  closed 
door.  He  sat  by  the  dying  embers  of  the  fire.  He  had 
found  the  woman  of  the  Pool.  She  was  the  wife  of  his 
neighbour  Glendon.  The  realization  of  his  dream  was 
more  unattainable  than  ever,  but  his  bitterness  held  an 
undercurrent  of  happiness  in  knowing  that  he  might  be 
able  to  ease  the  burden  she  was  bearing  so  bravely. 

With  a  sudden  movement  he  touched  the  chair  where  her 
head  had  rested.  Then  he  turned  out  the  lamp  and  went 
to  his  own  room,  but  that  night  in  his  dreams  he  saw  the 
Woman  of  the  Pool  sitting  again  before  his  fireplace,  and 
a  child  leaned  against  her  shoulder.  As  he  drew  nearer, 
her  lips  smiled  and  her  eyes  met  his  in  perfect  confidence 
and  understanding. 

He  held  out  his  arms  to  her  and  the  child,  for  they  were 
his  own. 


CHAPTER  EIGHTEEN 

THE  next  morning  when  Powell  entered  the  living 
room  before  breakfast,  he  found  Katherine  and 
Donnie  already  there.  The  child,  though  pale, 
smiled  shyly  at  the  Doctor. 

" Hello!     How's  the  arm  this  morning,  Donnie?" 

"It  doesn't  hurt  at  all,"  replied  the  child,  while  his 
mother  held  out  her  hand  to  her  host  and  spoke,  c '  He  slept 
splendidly  all  night,  so  I  know  he  did  not  suffer." 

The  doctor's  answer  was  interrupted  by  Chappo  at  the 
door  leading  into  the  dining-room.  The  Mexican  smiled 
mysteriously  and  beckoned  Donnie,  who  glanced  at  his 
mother,  then  at  her  nod  of  acquiescence,  the  boy  followed 
in  Chappo 's  wake.  The  noise  of  sharp  barks  and  childish 
ejaculation  mingled  with  a  stream  of  chatter  in  Spanish 
between  the  child  and  Mexican  in  the  kitchen.  The  door 
closed,  and  Katherine  and  Powell  were  left  alone. 

Her  eyes  wandered  to  the  sketches  on  the  walls,  and  the 
doctor  rose,  saying,  "My  pictures  and  books  have  travelled 
with  me  to  many  strange  lands,  but  this  is  the  first  time 
they  have  really  seemed  to  be  at  home." 

She  followed  him  as  he  pointed  out  special  pictures,  and 
told  some  intimate  detail  of  the  artist's  life,  for  the 
pictures  had  been  gifts  from  their  creators,  his  per- 
sonal friends.  Most  of  the  signatures  were  world-known. 
Katherine  turned  to  the  rows  of  books,  and  recognizing 
many  old  friends  whom  she  had  not  seen  for  years,  she 
dropped  impulsively  on  the  floor  and  touched  them  with 
caressing  fingers,  her  face  alight  with  a  radiant  smile. 
Powell  read  the  book-hunger,  and  begged  her  to  select  as 
many  as  she  pleased. 

165 


166  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"I  love  my  books  as  few  men  love  their  friends,"  he 
said  earnestly,  standing  above  her  and  taking  a  rare  first 
edition  from  its  place.  "They  will  be  enhanced  in  value 
if  you  will  only  share  them  with  me,  so  I  can  talk  about 
them  with  you  sometime." 

Together  they  selected,  while  Katherine  crouched  on  the 
floor  read  the  titles,  commenting  and  questioning,  as  they 
agreed  or  disagreed. 

"It's  like  a  child  with  a  big  box  of  candy,"  she  laughed 
as  she  rose,  assisted  by  Powell,  who  carried  a  number  of 
chosen  books  and  placed  them  upon  the  table.  "I  don't 
know  what  to  start  with." 

She  settled  again  in  the  chair  before  the  fireplace,  and 
the  conversation  slipped  by  degrees  into  the  doctor's  work 
in  the  east,  and  his  plan  to  transform  the  Hot  Springs 
ranch  into  a  sanitarium  for  poor,  tubercular  children. 

"My  work  in  hospitals  taught  me  the  need  of  such  a 
place.  There  are  thousands  of  children  who  die  each  year 
because  they  lack  the  things  Nature  provides,  pure  air, 
nourishing  food  and  an  outdoor  playground  in  this  wonder- 
ful climate  with  its  magical  healing  powers.  I  believe  that 
environment  can  conquer  heredity,  in  physical  as  well  as 
moral  conditions.  You  cannot  realize  what  child-life 
means  in  the  slums  of  our  crowded  cities  of  the  east,  Mrs. 
Glendon,"  he  turned  a  face  full  of  enthusiasm  and  her  own 
glowed  in  response.  "The  first  step  was  my  good  fortune 
in  getting  this  place.  It  will  take  time,  money  and  labour, 
but  I  know  it  is  worth  the  effort." 

"It  will  be  wonderful  to  watch  you  develope  your  plans ! 
Thank  you  for  telling  me  about  it  all !" 

Chappo  appeared  and  announced  breakfast,  and  Powell 
with  Mrs.  Glendon  found  Donnie  already  waiting  them. 
The  collie,  Tatters,  was  beside  the  child,  and  it  was  evident 
a  friendship  had  been  cemented  between  the  two. 

The  little  Mexican  cook  beamed  with  pleasure  as  he  in- 
stalled Mrs.  Glendon  at  the  end  of  the  table  and  placed  the 
cofTee-pot  before  her.     Chappo  and  Juan  were  old  friends, 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  167 

so  Katherine  and  Donnie  knew  him  well.  His  reputation 
as  a  cook  was  demonstrated  in  the  meal  he  served,  and  he 
watched  jealously  that  nothing  was  neglected.  Donnie 's 
attention  was  divided  between  his  mother,  the  doctor  and 
Tatters.  The  dog  sat  beside  the  boy's  chair,  occasionally 
poking  his  nose  against  Donnie 's  knee  to  remind  him  that 
he,  too,  liked  butter  muffins  and  tidbits  of  bacon. 

Donnie  patted  him,  but  hesitated  to  respond  to  the  dog's 
appeals,  then  as  the  child  looked  down  and  broke  into  a 
sudden  burst  of  hearty  laughter,  Katherine  was  startled 
into  the  realization  that  it  was  the  first  time  she  had  ever 
heard  her  boy  laugh  like  other  children. 

"Look,  Marmee!" 

The  dog,  believing  his  wheedling  ineffectual,  was  sitting 
on  his  haunches  uncertainly,  waving  his  paws  frantically 
in  efforts  to  keep  balanced.  It  was  hard  work  for  a  puppy, 
and  his  wildly  rolling  eyes  made  him  more  ridiculous. 
Even  Chappo  joined  in  the  laughter  with  the  doctor  and 
Katherine.  Tatters,  understanding  approval,  barked  and 
danced  about  them,  until  Powell  tossed  a  piece  of  muffin 
which  the  dog  caught  and  gulped  down. 

"I'm  afraid  I  am  not  bringing  him  up  properly," 
apologized  the  doctor,  "but  we  are  alone  so  much  and  he  is 
such  an  intelligent,  affectionate  dog,  that  I  spoil  him.  He 
thinks  your  breakfast  must  be  better  than  mine,  Donnie," 
he  ended  as  the  dog  rejected  a  bit  of  muffin  proffered  by 
Powell  and  swallowed  what  Donnie  held  out. 

At  last  breakfast  was  over,  and  the  little  party  stood  on 
the  porch,  prepared  to  start  for  the  Circle  Cross.  Tat- 
ters yelped  and  begged  to  be  included,  but  his  special  efforts 
were  directed  at  Donnie. 

"He  seems  to  have  adopted  you,  Donnie,"  the  doctor 
laughed.  "If  your  mother  does  not  object,  I  think  Tatters 
would  be  a  fine  friend  for  you." 

"If  he  were  a  less  valuable  dog — "  began  Katherine,  but 
Powell  cut  short  her  protests  by  his  answer. 

"It  is  natural  for  a  boy  to  have  a  dog.     A  pup  will 


168  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

desert  a  man  anytime  to  respond  to  a  boy's  smile.  If  the 
dog  will  not  cause  you  any  annoyance,  I'd  be  happy  to 
know  he  was  with  Donnie.  Tatters  is  unusually  intelligent 
and  affectionate,  almost  uncannily  so  at  times.  He  would 
be  a  loyal  friend." 

Donnie  watched  with  appealing  eyes,  and  when  his  mother 
accepted  the  dog  for  him,  the  child's  right  arm  went 
around  Tatters'  shaggy  neck,  and  the  dog,  as  though  under- 
standing, pledged  his  fealty  with  a  quick  touch  of  his  pink 
tongue  against  the  lad's  cheek.  Then  Chappo  drove  the 
buggy  from  the  stable  and  stood  at  the  head  of  the  team 
until  Powell,  Donnie  and  Katherine  were  seated  and  the 
reins  in  the  doctor's  hands. 

The  Mexican  mounted  a  pony  and  loped  ahead  of  the 
handsome  span  of  fast  trotters,  while  Tatters  yelped  before 
them,  dashing  away  from  the  road  into  the  brush  to  chase 
imaginary  foes.  They  reached  the  Circle  Cross  and  after 
an  inspection  of  the  broken  wall,  Chappo  asserted  he  could 
fix  it  unassisted  in  a  couple  of  days,  since  the  adobe  bricks 
were  in  good  condition  in  the  shed  where  Juan  had  stored 
them  the  previous  summer.  No  damage  had  been  done  to 
the  room  inside,  or  the  furniture. 

"I  think  you  and  Donnie  had  better  remain  at  the 
Springs  until  the  place  is  fixed,"  suggested  Powell.  "The 
wall  will  be  damp  for  a  week,  you  know." 

"If  my  bed  is  moved  into  the  corner  of  the  dining-room, 
Donnie  and  I  can  sleep  there  and  get  along  splendidly;" 
was  Katherine 's  answer.  "The  rest  of  the  house  is  in  good 
condition.  The  bedroom  was  the  only  room  when  we 
came  here,  and  we  built  on  the  other  three  rooms.  The  old 
wall  at  the  side  of  the  house  cracked  last  spring,  and  the 
rains  weakened  it,  as  the  roof  leaked  badly.  I  noticed  the 
crack  widening  several  weeks  ago,  but  you  know,  an  adobe 
wall  holds  together  when  any  other  material  would  break 
away.  We  did  not  dream  there  was  any  immediate  danger 
of  its  falling." 

"I'll  help  Chappo,"  asserted  Powell,  despite  her  protest 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  169 

that  the  repairs  could  wait  until  Juan  and  her  husband 
returned,  and  Powell  and  Chappo  began  their  task. 

Donnie  and  Tatters  trotted  to  and  fro,  as  Chappo 
wheeled  the  adobe  bricks  to  Powell,  who  whistled  cheerfully 
as  he  laid  them  accurately  on  top  of  each  other  between  the 
soft  layers  of  mud  which  he  skillfully  applied  with  a  large 
trowel.  The  whistle  was  interrupted  by  snatches  of  con- 
versation between  Chappo  the  doctor  and  Donnie,  partly  in 
English  and  partly  Spanish. 

"Lunch  is  ready/ '  called  Katherine  through  the  kitchen 
window. 

"Fine!"  answered  Powell,  "we're  all  good  and  hungry," 
then  followed  the  sounds  of  splashing  water,  and  in  a  few 
minutes  Powell,  with  Donnie  at  his  side,  bustled  into  the 
dining  room  announcing  they  were  ready  to  eat  the  dishes. 

It  was  a  merry  meal,  and  afterwards  while  Chappo  was 
eating  his  lunch,  the  doctor  and  Katherine  sat  on  the  porch 
talking.  Donnie  perched  on  the  lower  step,  his  eyes  be- 
traying his  admiration  for  the  man  who  was  unlike  any 
other  man  the  child  had  ever  known  in  his  short  life. 

Work  was  resumed,  and  as  it  neared  sunset,  Powell  said 
that  he  must  tighten  the  bandages  on  Donnie 's  arm  and 
the  adjustment  was  completed  with  Katherine 's  aid.  The 
splints  had  held  in  place,  and  the  doctor  announced  every- 
thing satisfactory. 

"I  will  be  back  early  in  the  morning/ '  said  the  man, 
£lasping  Katherine 's  extended  hand.  "Oh,  by  the  way, 
we  killed  a  calf  a  few  days  ago,  so  I  will  bring  down  a  loin. 
Chappo  and  I  are  cultivating  hearty  appetites,  you  see!" 

He  was  in  the  buggy  before  she  could  thank  him,  and 
the  team  whirled  away  in  a  cloud  of  dust. 

Katherine  watched  the  buggy  until  it  disappeared,  then 
Chappo  and  Donnie  emerged  from  the  stable  and  came 
toward  her,  talking  volubly  in  Mexican-Spanish — which  the 
boy  had  acquired  from  old  Juan.  Katherine  had  also  fal- 
len into  the  habit  of  using  the  same  tongue  when  she  and 
Donnie  were  alone  with  Juan,  whose  one  symptom  of  al- 


170  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

legiance  to  Mexico  was  his  persistence  in  his  native  tongue, 
though  he  spoke  English  fluently. 

"I  will  feed  the  chickens  and  bring  wood  and  water, 
Seiiora,"  said  Chappo;  "then  you  can  tell  me  what  you 
want  me  to  do.     The  cow  is  milked." 

"There  is  nothing  more,  thank  you,  Chappo ;"  she  re- 
plied. "You  can  go  home  now,  for  Donnie  and  I  will 
manage  nicely. " 

"I  stay  here  teel  Senor  Glendon  and  Juan  come  home. 
El  Doctor  say  'stay.'  " 

"But,  Chappo,"  she  protested,  "they  may  be  away  a 
week  or  more.  You  must  go  home  and  look  out  for  the 
doctor. ' ' 

"El  Padrone  say  'stay/  I  must  stay.  He  say,  'you 
come  home  too  queek,  I  fire  you;'  "  the  Mexican  smiled 
expansively,  "Eet  is  all  right,  Sefiora.     I  stay!" 

She  realized  that  her  objections  were  of  no  consequence 
to  either  the  Mexican  or  the  doctor,  and  a  sudden  wave  of 
gratitude  overwhelmed  her.  It  was  so  new  to  have  others 
think  of  her  comfort  or  safety,  to  have  the  heavy  burden 
lifted  even  for  a  few  hours.  What  a  difference  it  would 
have  made  in  her  life  and  Donnie's  if  Glendon  were  only 
a  man  like  the  doctor.  Then  there  would  have  been  no 
loneliness  in  the  canon,  for  the  high  walls  could  not  have 
held  her  happiness.  Her  heart  would  have  sent  its  mes- 
sage to  every  tree,  bush,  rock,  bird  and  cloud,  so  that  the 
very  universe  might  share  her  joy. 

Early  the  next  morning  Donnie  was  on  the  watch  for  his 
new  friend,  and  his  delight  made  him  speechless  when 
Powell  told  the  boy  that  the  pony  tied  to  the  back  of  the 
buggy  was  for  him. 

"He  is  too  small  to  carry  a  man's  weight,"  explained 
Powell,  "but  he  is  perfectly  gentle,  so  you  need  have  no 
fear." 

"I  can't  let  you  do  so  much,"  faltered  Katherine,  "the 
dog  was  more  than  enough.  You  are  heaping  a  debt  of 
obligations  that  I  cannot  pay.     Last  night  I  tried  to  make 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  171 

Chappo  go  home,  but  he  refused.  He  said  you  had  or- 
dered him  to  remain,  and  that  you  would  discharge  him 
if  he  disobeyed  you.  I  know  how  many  things  need  at- 
tention on  a  ranch  and  it  worries  me  to  cause  you  any 
further  inconvenience.  Donnie  and  I  are  used  to  being 
aloue,  you  see,  so  there  was  no  need  of  Chappo  staying  here 
all  night/ ' 

"You  must  think  I  am  a  regular  tenderfoot,"  retorted 
Powell,  smiling.  "I  have  roughed  it  under  the  most  primi- 
tive conditions  in  South  America,  and  am  glad  to  do  a 
bit  of  hustling  to  wear  off  the  rust.  Civilization  makes 
many  men  helpless,  you  know." 

"Then,  let  us  compromise,"  she  persisted.  "Suppose 
you  come  down  for  your  dinner  each  night  while  Chappo 
is  here?     I  cannot  consent  to  his  remaining  otherwise. 

"Do  you  know,"  confessed  Powell  gaily,  "that  was  what 
I  was  hoping  you  would  say!" 

So,  each  afternoon  following,  when  the  shadows  length- 
ened in  the  canon,  Donnie,  watching  down  the  road  would 
shout  welcome,  and  Katherine  coming  on  the  porch,  watched 
Doctor  Powell  pause  at  the  bend  of  the  road,  waiting  for 
the  child,  just  as  old  Doctor  King  had  formerly  done,  then 
Donnie,  perched  on  the  saddle  before  the  doctor,  rode  in 
state  to  the  front  porch  and  his  smiling  mother. 

On  one  of  these  rides,  Donnie  looked  with  serious  eyes 
at  the  man,  and  said,  "When  I  grow  up,  I'm  going  to  be  a 
doctor  like  you,  and  then,  maybe,  you'll  let  me  come  and 
help  you.  Marmee  says  that  helping  others  is  just  the 
same  as  fighting  in  tour'ments  or  hunting  the  Sangrael!" 

"Your  mother  is  right,  Donnie,"  was  the  grave  reply. 
"Someday  I  want  you  to  be  my  partner,  and  we'll  work 
together.  Now,  remember,  this  is  a  contract  between  us, 
and  I  won't  forget  my  promise." 

After  dinner  had  been  eaten  each  evening,  a  romp  with 
Donnie  and  Tatters,  or  teaching  the  dog  a  new  trick,  oc- 
cupied Powell  and  the  child,  and  later,  Katherine  and  the 
doctor  sat  on  the  little  porch  and  talked  of  the  doctor's 


172  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

plans,  while  Donnie  leaned  against  his  mother's  knees  lis- 
tening intently,  for  someday,  he,  too,  would  help  in  the 
doctor's  work.  The  shadows  in  Katherine's  eyes  turned  to 
laughter,  her  face  became  girlish  in  relief  from  constant 
worry,  and  Donnie  watched  her  with  adoring,  wondering 
eyes. 

"Marmee's  lots  prettier  when  she  laughs,  isn't  she,  Doc- 
tor?" asked  the  child  suddenly  one  evening. 

Katherine's  eyes  and  Powell's  met,  and  for  the  first 
time  a  feeling  of  awkwardness  tinged  their  comradeship, 
but  Powell  relieved  the  situation  with  a  laugh,  as  he  said, 
"  Little  boys  are  lucky,  because  they  can  say  just  what 
they  think,  but  grown-up  people  are  not  allowed  to  do  it. 
How  is  Pet  today?" 

Donnie  launched  upon  a  report  of  the  most  wonderful 
pony  in  Arizona  and  the  man  kept  plying  him  with  ques- 
tions until  the  strain  of  the  situation  had  passed.  But, 
Katherine  was  unusually  silent  for  the  rest  of  the  evening, 
and  the  doctor  rose  early  to  say  "Good  night."  He  drove 
home  slowly,  thoughtful,  troubled  and  yet  glad.  No 
matter  what  Fate  might  deny  him  in  life,  these  wonderful 
days  could  never  be  filched  from  the  treasure-house  of 
Memory. 

After  Donnie  had  been  tucked  in  bed,  Katherine  Glendon 
sat  in  silent  self-examination.  She  realized  the  happiness 
of  the  last  five  days  could  not  continue,  but  even  though 
she  could  not  have  the  kindly  friendship  of  the  doctor, 
it  warmed  her  heart  to  know  that  for  these  few  days  they 
had  walked  side  by  side  as  comrades.  It  had  imbued  her 
with  new  hopes.  Yet,  she  knew  there  was  not  the  least 
tinge  of  disloyalty  to  her  husband  in  any  word,  deed  or 
thought.  The  pleasure  she  had  experienced  was  as  inno- 
cent as  that  which  she  felt  when  she  and  Donnie,  walking 
in  the  canon,  found  a  new  flower. 

So,  with  untroubled  e3^es  she  knelt  beside  the  bed  where 
her  boy  lay  sleeping,  and  prayed  for  the  child,  then  her 
lips  moved  in  a  plea  for  the  father  of  that  child. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  173 

The  following  day  Glendon  returned  home  in  a  repentant 
mood,  as  was  usual  after  a  protracted  carousal.  He 
thanked  Chappo  effusively,  and  to  show  his  gratitude,  held 
out  a  whiskey  bottle.  But  the  little  Mexican  declined,  "I 
promise  El  Doctor  I  would  not  drink  again.  Eef  I  do, 
maybe  I  die  pretty  queek,  he  say." 

"Oh,  a  little  whiskey  once  in  a  while  won't  hurt  you," 
urged  Glendon,  who  always  liked  company  when  he  was 
drinking. 

But  Chappo  was  firm,  though  the  battle  was  not  won 
without  a  hard  struggle  when  the  pungent  odour  from  the 
glass  in  Glendon 's  extended  hand  reached  the  dwarf's 
nostrils.  Appreciating  his  own  weakness,  Chappo  hastened 
to  the  barn  and  saddled  his  pony  without  loss  of  time. 

Then  he  rode  to  the  door  where  Katherine  stood. 
"Adios,  Sefiora.  Yo  me  voy,"  (Good  bye,  Sefiora.  I  am 
going,)  and  he  galloped  away  from  temptation  as  fast  as 
his  pony  could  carry  him. 

Katherine  told  her  husband  of  the  kindness  shown  her  and 
Donnie,  and  in  response  to  her  entreaties,  he  rode  up  to 
the  Springs  the  following  day. 

Powell  received  him  courteously  and  tried  to  evade  the 
effusive  thanks,  but  Glendon  had  reached  a  point  of  in- 
toxication where  he  was  garrulous. 

"I  want  you  to  come  down  any  time  and  make  yourself 
entirely  at  home,"  he  urged.  "A  man  gets  tired  having 
no  one  but  a  woman  to  talk  to,  and  Katherine 's  head  is 
always  in  the  clouds.  The  boy  is  getting  just  like  her. 
When  he's  a  little  older  though,  I'm  going  to  take  him  in 
hand  myself.  If  Katherine  hadn't  been  so  high-headed 
with  my  folks  things  would  be  mighty  different  with  me 
today.  But  here  I  am,  stuck  down  in  a  God-forsaken 
canon  in  Arizona  and  no  prospects  of  ever  getting  out. 
If  she  had  catered  to  my  family  we  wouldn't  be  here,  you 
bet.  So,  it's  nothing  more  than  she  brought  on  herself, 
and  I've  got  to  take  the  medicine  with  her.  The  old  man 
has  plenty  money,  but  it's  doubtful  if  I  smell  a  penny  of 


174.  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

it  when  he  dies.  If  she'd  come  off  her  high-horse  the  old 
man  might  leave  a  wad  to  Donnie.  Of  course,  I  take  a 
few  drinks  when  I  feel  like  it.  Any  man  does.  Once  in 
a  while  it  gets  the  upper  hand  of  me,  hut  I  can  stop  when 
I  want  to.,  and  I  won't  make  any  promises  to  any  one  to 
quit  till  I  get  good  and  ready." 

Once  started  he  rambled  on.  Powell  gave  up  any  at- 
tempt to  check  the  half -drunken  confidences,  and  sat  si- 
lent y  smoking,  trying  to  conceal  his  aversion.  It  was  with 
a  feeling  of  keen  relief  he  saw  Glendon  rise  and  take  leave. 
The  heavy-set  figure  swayed  uncertainly  in  the  saddle. 
Then  the  memory  of  that  man 's  wife,  of  the  days  they  two 
had  shared,  swept  over  the  doctor.  The  knowledge  that 
Katherine  was  subject  to  contact  of  such  a  man  as  Glendon 
made  his  own  loss  more  poignant.  If  he  had  found  the 
woman  of  his  dreams  married  to  a  man  worthy  of  her,  he 
knew  he  would  have  rejoiced  at  her  happiness,  though  he 
went  his  own  way  alone  through  life. 

"Poor  little  Lady  of  the  Pool,"  he  whispered,  "I  have 
found  you  only  to  lose  you!" 

He  recalled  a  beautiful  rose,  frozen  in  a  block  of  ice, 
which  had  been  sent  him  by  a  grateful  patient.  He  had 
longed  to  warm  the  cold  petals  and  inhale  their  fragrance, 
but  he  knew  that  removing  the  icy  barrier  would  mean  de- 
stroying the  flower.     He  left  it  undisturbed. 

And  the  rose,  in  its  loveliness  passed  its  life;  shut  away 
from  the  caress  of  the  summer  breeze,  from  the  kiss  of  the 
butterfly,  from  the  quivering  touch  of  the  humming-bird's 
wings,  and  all  the  wonderful  mysteries  of  life  that  throbbed 
around  it. 


CHAPTER  NINETEEN 

IN  May  and  June  each  year  the  Eastern  and  Northern 
cattle  buyers  flock  into  Arizona  to  procure  "feed- 
ers" for  their  grass  ranges  in  other  sections.  One, 
two  and  three-year  old  steers  are  then  shipped  to  be  held 
on  pasture  and  finally  "topped"  on  grain  in  some  Eastern 
centre,  to  prepare  the  animals  for  the  Kansas  City,  Den- 
ver, Omaha  or  Chicago  stockyards. 

A  number  of  fine  steers  had  been  gathered  on  the  Hot 
Springs  range,  and  were  being  driven  to  Willcox  to  make 
part  of  a  contract  between  a  Montana  buyer  and  the  Dia- 
mond II  and  PL.  The  spring  rains  had  been  abundant. 
Wild  grasses  rose  to  the  height  of  a  pony's  knees;  sleek 
Hereford  cattle  browsed  contentedly,  while  white-faced 
calves  romped  and  raced  between.  Arizona  was  at  its 
smiling  best. 

Powell,  riding  behind  the  herd  while  Limber  directed  a 
couple  of  Mexican  vaqueros,  was  satisfied  that  he  had  made 
no  mistake  in  identifying  himself  with  this  country.  The 
plans  for  the  Sanitarium  were  maturing  perfectly.  Let- 
ters with  suggestions  and  experience  culled  from  the  best 
authorities  all  over  the  continent,  as  well  as  European 
health  resorts,  were  in  each  mail.  Architects  had  sub- 
mitted drafts  and  plans,  from  which  Powell  was  selecting 
the  very  best  ideas. 

Arrangements  regarding  the  consolidation  of  the  Dia- 
mond II  work  with  the  PL  and  Hot  Springs  herds  had 
proven  ideal,  and  the  only  unpleasant  feature  Powell  had 
encountered  was  embodied  in  his  neighbour,  Glendon. 

Though  the  man's  antagonism  to  the  doctor  had  now 

175 


176  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

reached  a  point  of  open  animosity,  Powell  ignored  it.  Lini' 
ber  went  frequently  to  the  Circle  Cross,  and  old  Chappo, 
making  visits  to  Juan,  managed  to  keep  in  touch  with 
Katherine.  They  all  knew  they  were  unable  to  do  more 
than  this,  unless  she  should  allow  it,  or  some  dire  necessity 
force  her  to  call  on  them  for  help.  Powell  was  compelled 
to  keep  entirely  aloof  from  the  Circle  Cross,  fearing  to 
precipitate  some  disagreeable  scene,  should  Glendon  be  in 
one  of  his  aggressive  moods.  The  doctor  knew  Glendon 's 
type  well  enough  to  understand  that  the  brunt  of  such 
situation  would  fall  with  its  full  weight  on  the  woman. 
He  hoped  that  she  did  not  misinterpret  his  absence  as  due 
to  indifference,  since  it  was  the  only  way  he  could  help. 

Limber  dropped  back  of  the  herd  and  rode  beside  the 
doctor  without  speaking.  There  were  long  intervals  when 
these  two  were  together  that  neither  spoke,  yet  each  man 
knew  the  comradeship  of  the  other.  The  cattle  w7ere  plod- 
ding along  steadily  and  in  the  distance  could  be  seen  the 
smoke  of  a  train  creeping  like  a  rattlesnake  across  the  flat 
between   Cochise   and   Willcox. 

The  cowboy  threw  his  leg  across  the  horn  of  his  saddle, 
sitting  sidewise  as  he  rolled  a  cigarette,  which  he  proffered 
to  Powell.  Then  making  one  for  himself,  the  two  men 
smoked  as  they  rode. 

"Juan  told  me  last  night  that  he  had  found  another 
dead  calf  up  the  riverbed,  and  poisoned  it,"  said  Limber. 
"Thar  was  fresh  lion  tracks.  He  thinks  it's  the  lion  that 
was  in  the  cave,  but  it  ain't  been  thar  since  the  day  we 
found  Mrs.  Glendon  and  Donnie.  It  must  of  smelt  our 
tracks  and  quit.  Juan  has  been  watchin'  for  it  ever  since 
I  tole  him  about  it." 

' '  How  much  is  the  bounty  ? ' '  asked  Powell,  puffing  at  his 
cigarette. 

"Twenty-five  dollars  for  a  lion  scalp,"  replied  Limber. 
"I  hope  Juan  gets  it.  We've  been  having  lots  of  calves 
killed  this  year.  Mr.  Traynor  figgers  on  puttin'  a  couple 
of  men  out  trappin'  and  poisonin'  them  and  the  coyotes. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  177 

It'll  pay  to  do  it.     We  had  to  shoot  two  horses  not  long 
ago,  because  their  backs  was  broke." 

"Do  they  fight  at  close  quarters?"  asked  Powell.  "The 
South  American  ones  are  nasty  things." 

"Well,  sometimes  they  do  and  sometimes  they  don't. 
Say,  did  any  one  ever  tell  you  about  the  time  Hasayampa 
fit  the  mountain  lion?" 

"No,  or  I  should  not  have  forgotten  it,  I  am  sure," 
Powell  smiled  in  anticipation. 

Limber  tossed  away  his  dead  cigarette,  swung  around  in 
his  saddle  and  began,  "Hasayampa  had  a  peculiar  experi- 
ence with  a  mountain-lion  onct.  You  see,  he  was  livin'  in 
a  one-room  stone  cabin  down  Aravaipa  Canon  all  alone  by 
hisself,  exceptin'  for  an  ol'  brindle  dog  named  Killem. 
Hasayampa  allowed  that  Killem  was  a  canine  orphun 
asylum,  because  he  was  related  to  near  every  dog  between 
Willcox  and  the  San  Pedro.  Killem 's  nose  was  bull-dog, 
his  ears  was  collie,  his  tail  looked  something  like  a  pug's 
the  way  it  tried  to  curl  up  in  a  doughnut.  He  had  a 
brindle  coat  of  hair  that  was  sprinkled  with  white  patches 
and  them  mixed  with  black.  He  sure  done  his  best  to  bear 
a  resemblance  to  every  one  of  his  family  connections.  He 
had  been  a  dandy  scrapper  when  he  was  young,  but  he  was 
so  ol'  he  shed  all  his  teeth,  but  his  ki-yi  was  guaranteed 
indestructible.  Hasayampa  had  trouble  with  a  mountain- 
lion  what  wanted" to  make  sociable  calls,  but  was  too  bashful 
to  come  in  daylight.  It  formed  a  strong  attachment  for 
some  pigs  Bill  was  raisin',  an'  that  lion  adopted  'em  on  the 
installment  plan,  an'  the  ol'  sow  took  on  somethin'  dreadful. 
So  between  the  pigs  squealin'  and  Killem  ki-yiing,  he  was 
pretty  near  crazy.  Hasayampa  said  he  couldn't  stand  the 
lady  pig's  grief,  so  he  killed  her  and  then  he  guv  Killem 
a  good  kick  to  make  him  shet  up,  and  went  back  to  bed. 
"The  cabin  had  one  door  an'  a  little  winder.  Hasa- 
yampa was  lyin'  on  his  bunk  with  a  candle  stuck  in  a  beer- 
bottle  on  a  box  longside  him,  right  under  the  winder.  Sud- 
denly ol'  Killem  hopped  right  through  the  winder  glass 


178  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

and  landed  plump  on  top  of  Hasayampa.  He  jumped 
up  to  kick  Killem  out,  but  before  he  done  it,  denied  if  that 
lion  didn't  come  through  the  same  way,  but  he  knocked 
over  the  box  and  put  out  the  candle.  Then  Killem  and 
the  lion  started  in  for  fust  blood. 

" Hasayampa 's  six-shooter  had  been  knocked  off'n  the 
box  and  Hasayampa  made  a  break  fer  the  door — the  room 
seemed  a  leetle  bit  crowded  just  then — but  the  door  was 
locked  and  the  key  somewhar  on  the  floor.  He  begun 
scratching  for  that  ke}r. 

''Just  about  this  time  the  stovepipe  got  knocked  down. 
Thar  warn't  mutch  fire,  but  plenty  of  smoke.  Next  thing 
they  hit  the  table  whar  he  had  piled  up  all  the  tin  plates, 
cups  and  pans  that  he  washed  on  Sundays.  Hasayampa 
said  the  noise  was  somethin'  fierce,  for  Killem  was  yellin', 
'Pen  and  ink/  the  lion  was  screechin'  its  head  off,  and 
both  of  'em  kickin'  tin  things  in  every  direction. 

"All  this  time  Hasayampa  was  bavin*  troubles  of  his 
own.  He  was  clawin'  the  floor,  lookin'  for  the  key  or  his 
six-shooter.  He  didn't  care  which,  but  he  wanted  one  of 
'em  and  he  wanted  it  in  a  hurry,  which  wasn't  unreason- 
able noways,  when  you  remember  it  was  his  own  property 
he  was  huntin'.  He  finally  got  on  his  stomach  and  spun 
aroun'  like  a  cartwheel  and  that  was  how  he  found  his 
gun.  Trustin'  to  luck  he  edged  closer  to  the  noise  and 
put  his  gun  against  somethin'  and  fired.  Thar  was  a  yelp 
from  Killem,  a  screech  from  the  lion,  then  somethin'  flop- 
ped around  on  the  floor,  but  whether  it  was  the  lion  or  the 
dorg,  was  a  conundrum  Hasayampa  wasn't  prepared  to 
answer  off  hand. 

"Things  got  quiet.  He  crawled  careful  till  he  found  the 
candle  and  lit  it,  holdin'  his  gun  ready.  Then  he  looked 
aroun'.  Thar  was  Killem  settin'  scrintched  up  in  one 
corner  of  the  room,  a  bullet  hole  through  one  ear,  but  thar 
warn't  no  lion  nowhar  to  be  seen,  and  Hasayampa  fig- 
gered  he  had  shot  Killem  and  the  lion  had  gone  out  the 
winder,  same  route  he  took  comin'  in.     Hasayampa  did 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  179 

some  tall  cussin,  and  begun  piekin'  things  up,  when  he 
seen  the  end  of  the  lion's  tail  stickin'  out  under  the  bunk. 
He  backed  off  without  losin'  no  time  and  shot  under  the 
bunk.     The  lion  never  even  kicked. 

" After  he'd  waited  to  be  sure  it  was  dead,  Hasayampa 
hauled  it  out  by  the  tail,  feelin'  mighty  big  at  such  a  shot 
in  a  dark  room.  Then  he  begun  to  hunt  to  see  whar  the 
bullet  went  in.  Thar  was  just  one  bullet  hole,  and  that 
was  when  he  shot  it  under  the  bunk.  He  had  missed  it 
clar  the  fust  time,  but  that  lion  was  as  dead  as  a  door-nail 
when  he  fired  the  second  shot,  and  Hasayampa  knowed 
it." 

Limber  looked  at  Powell  gravely,  "Now  don't  that  beat 
you?" 

"But  what  happened?"  demanded  the  Doctor.  "Even 
Hasayampa  must  have  had  some  theory  about  it." 

"Well,"  drawled  Limber,  "ol'  Injun  George,  wher  he 
heerd  about  it  said  he  had  been  puttin'  pizen  out,  and 
findin'  a  half  et  pig  had  fixed  up  the  carcass  for  the 
lion,  and  he  allowed  the  one  that  visited  Hasayampa  had 
made  a  meal  of  that  pig.  But  Hasayampa  always  stuck  to 
it  that  the  lion  had  naturally  died  of  heart  disease  and 
nervous  prostration  brung  on  by  the  excitement.  Any- 
way, that's  how  Hasayampa  Bill  won  the  lion  record  in 
Arizona. ' ' 

"He  proved  his  right  to  spell  the  word  both  ways," 
grinned  the  doctor  as  Limber  reined  Peanut  toward  the 
head  of  the  herd. 

They  were  approaching  the  outskirts  of  Willcox.  Al- 
ready their  advent  was  being  heralded  by  hysterical  yelps 
from  innumerable  dogs  belonging  to  the  Mexican  families 
who  occupied  shacks  at  the  outskirts  of  the  town.  Each 
shack  blazed  with  strings  of  dried,  red  chili  peppers,  while 
countless  children  grouped  about  each  door,  or  the  women 
gossiped  volubly. 

The  cattle  were  driven  into  the  shipping  corrals  a  short 
distance  from  town.     The  gates  secured,  Limber  and  Powell 


180  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

rode  side  by  side  up  the  dusty  street  to  the  Cowboys'  Rest 
and  left  their  horses  in  charge  of  Buckboard. 

Several  other  shipments  were  in  town,  being  inspected 
according  to  rule  of  precedent.  The  railroad  company 
was  frequently  short  of  engines  to  transport  the  heavy 
trains  of  cattle,  and  it  often  happened  that  a  bunch  of 
stock  was  delayed  a  week  or  longer  before  starting  for  its 
destination.  In  such  event,  the  cattle  were  held  on  the 
range  near  town,  or  in  some  fenced  pasture  close  at  hand 
which  was  rented  for  the  time  necessary. 

Limber  had  put  in  his  order  so  as  to  insure  the  right  of 
way  when  the  cattle  from  the  Hot  Springs  and  Diamond  H 
should  arrive  in  town.  He  was  anxious  to  ascertain  whether 
they  could  load  out  that  afternoon  or  not.  The  foreman 
and  Doctor  Powell  walked  up  the  main  street  together, 
stopping  to  speak  to  other  cowmen,  many  of  whom  had 
not  before  met  the  new  owner  of  the  Hot  Springs  and  PL 
ranches. 

Bronco,  Holy  and  Roarer  spied  and  welcomed  them 
vociferously,  and  Limber  was  informed  that  the  Diamond 
H  cattle  were  on  a  pasture,  half  a  mile  from  town.  The 
Inspector  would  be  ready  to  handle  their  shipment  right 
after  lunch,  as  the  cars  and  engine  would  be  on  time  for 
them. 

1 '  I  '11  stop  for  the  mail, ' '  suggested  Powell  as  they  passed 
the  post-office,  and  suiting  the  action  to  the  words  he  turned 
in  the  store,  while  the  others  continued  their  way  to  the 
Chinese  restaurant. 

They  were  about  to  enter,  when  Walton,  carrying  an  old- 
fashioned  carpet  grip  hurried  through  the  door. 

"Hello,  Walton,"  was  Limber's  casual  greeting. 

Walton,  seeing  them,  stopped  short  and  regarded  the 
group  with  an  angry  stare,  then  without  replying,  he  rushed 
across  the  street  to  the  railroad  station,  where  the  east- 
bound  train  was  puffing. 

' '  Seems  in  a  hurry, ' '  commented  Limber  as  they  watched 
Walton  climb  aboard  the  train. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  181 

"Mebbe  he's  goin'  to  get  married,"  grinned  Bronco, 
"and  he's  scairt  for  fear  somethin'  will  happen  to  them 
whiskers  again." 

Walton's  face  appeared  at  one  of  the  windows  of  the 
day-coach.  As  the  train  puffed  past  the  men,  his  eyes 
rested  on  them  in  mingled  triumph  and  malice. 

"Hump!"  grunted  Holy,  "Looks  like  he'd  just  drawed 
four  aces ! ' ' 

"Well,  I'm  glad  the  country  is  shet  of  him,"  piped 
Roarer  as  they  met  Doctor  Powell  and  imparted  the  item 
of  news  to  him. 

Powell  handed  a  letter  to  Limber.  The  pencil  writing 
was  crude  and  the  sheet  of  paper  bore  an  enormous,  bril- 
liant red  rose  across  one  corner.  The  eyes  of  the  other 
cowpunchers  focused  on  that  rose,  as  the  letter  had  been 
folded  backward. 

"Looks  like  a  love-letter,"  insinuated  Bronco.  "Say, 
Limber  ain't  that  addressed  to  Holy?  He's  the  only  one 
of  the  outfit  that  writes  letters  to  ladies,  you  know." 

"It's  been  in  the  post-office  a  week, ' '  commented  Limber, 
and  they  drew  closer  as  he  read  aloud: 

Dere  Limber —  I  seen  Walton  puttin'  the  Diamond  H  on 
a  Lazy  F  calf  and  I  give  him  a  week  to  quit  the  country. 
He  sold  out  to  a  fellow  from  Douglas,  so  I  guess  there  won't 
be  no  more  trouble  from  him.  It  wood  be  hard  to  make  a 
case  that  would  stick  against  him,  because  he  wasn't  brand- 
ing the  calves  for  himself.  He's  a  little  off  his  cabazza, 
and  them  green  whiskers  stuck  in  his  craw.  My  regards 
to  the  Boss  and  the  boys. 

Yours  truly, 

Billy  Saunders. 
Range  Detective  for  the 
Live  Stock  Sanitary  Board. 

"That's  why  he  was  in  sech  a  hurry  to  get  that  train. 
He  must  of  thought  we  knowed  about  it;"  said  Limber. 
"Well,  he  won't  bother  us  no  more."     As  they  all  entered 


182  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

the  restaurant,  Limber  spoke  to  Powell,  "The  inspector '11 
be  ready  for  us  right  after  lunch." 

They  were  shown  a  table  near  the  front  of  the  room, 
which  was  well-filled  with  a  typical  frontier  mixture  of 
humanity.  Cowpunchers,  miners,  clerks  and  storekeepers, 
a  couple  of  commercial  travellers,  and  an  Army  officer  in 
uniform,  accompanied  by  his  wife  and  two  children,  who 
had  evidently  just  arrived  on  the  train  from  California. 

In  a  corner  at  the  rear  end  of  the  room  sat  Glendon  with 
a  cowboy  whose  mutilated  hand  had  won  the  name  of 
Three-fingered  Jack.  They  were  talking  earnestly  in 
guarded  tones.  Glendon 's  back  was  toward  the  entrance 
of  the  place,  but  Jack,  who  was  classed  as  a  "  gunman/ ' 
because  of  his  expert  marksmanship,  scrutinized  the  new- 
comers sharply. 

"Who  is  that  with  the  Diamond  H  outfit?"  he  asked. 

Glendon  twisted  slightly,  took  a  swift  glance,  scowled 
and  leaned  over  to  his  companion. 

"That's  Powell,  damn  him!  Bought  the  Hot  Springs 
and  PL  herd  and  ranch  and  is  going  to  put  up  a  sanitarium 
for  tubercular  children.  Limber  stays  wTith  him  most  of 
the  time,  and  puts  in  the  rest  of  it  at  the  Diamond  H,  so 
you  never  know  when  you're  going  to  run  into  them.  It's 
easy  to  pull  the  wool  over  a  tenderfoot,  but  Limber  is  an- 
other proposition.  If  there's  any  trouble,  the  whole  coun- 
try will  side  with  Limber.  He's  as  sharp  as  they  make 
em,  and  every  one  knows  he's  so  damned  straight  that  he 
leans  backward.     That  doctor  is  no  fool,  either. ' ' 

Three-fingered  Jack  shrugged  his  shoulders  contemptu- 
ously and  smiled  into  the  other  man's  face.  Both  had  been 
drinking  heavily.  The  smile  was  a  studied  insult.  Glen- 
don did  not  notice  it. 

"Losing  your  nerve,  Glen?  I'll  give  that  pill-pusher 
a  little  scare  for  you,  and  I  bet  when  I  get  done  with  him 
he'll  look  like  a  cake  of  soap  in  a  Chinese  laundry  after  a 
big  day's  washing." 

Glendon  hesitated.     "We'd  better  steer  clear  of  them. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  183 

It  won't  do  to  have  any  trouble  now.  It  would  ball  things 
up  for  us." 

1 '  I  '11  keep  away  from  Limber, ' '  promised  Jack,  now  ob- 
sessed with  one  idea;  "but  it  won't  take  anything  except 
a  good  bluff  for  the  tenderfoot." 

"That  Diamond  H  is  mixing  into  everything,"  growled 
Glendon.  "If  it  hadn't  been  for  Traynor,  King  never 
would  have  patented  that  land  and  the  will  wouldn't  have 
been  worth  the  paper  it  was  written  on.  I've  hung  out  at 
the  Circle  Cross  all  these  years  expecting  to  get  hold  of  the 
Hot  Springs,  but  thanks  to  Traynor  and  Powell,  I  got  left 
in  the  end.  Bad  enough  when  King  was  alive,  shutting  me 
off  from  the  water,  but  now  Powell  is  stocking  up  the 
range  and  it's  going  to  knock  me  into  a  cocked  hat.  There's 
bound  to  be  trouble  between  Powell  and  me  before  very 
long.  I'm  not  going  to  put  up  with  his  prowling  around 
watching  things  out  there." 

""What  the  devil  do  you  care  for  the  half  a  dozen  calves 
he  may  keep  you  from  rustling?"  jeered  Jack.  "You've 
got  a  heap  bigger  thing  ahead  of  you,  if  you  just  keep  your 
shirt  on  a  bit  longer.  Then  you  can  quit  the  country  for 
good.  But,  it  won't  be  safe  for  us  to  come  out  there  now, 
Glen.     Better  meet  somewhere  else." 

"All  right,"  assented  Glendon,  with  a  shrug.  "You  tell 
Panchita  anytime  you  want  me,  and  she'll  get  word  to 
me." 

They  made  their  way  rather  unsteadily  from  the  long 
room,  unhitched  their  ponies  and  rode  toward  the  corral 
conversing  earnestly  in  low  tones. 

Half  an  hour  later,  Powell  and  the  boys  of  the  Diamond 
H  reached  the  corrals  where  their  entire  shipment  now  was 
enclosed.  Bronco  remained  down  in  the  narrow  chute, 
while  the  rest,  after  tying  their  ponies  to  the  corral  fence, 
climbed  up  and  perched  on  the  topmost  rail. 

Powell  looked  down  on  a  mass  of  surging  horns,  his  ears 
assaulted  by  deafening  bellows.  The  inspector  sat  above 
a  narrow  passageway  in  which  a  draft  of  five  cattle  was 


184  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

driven,  then  the  bar  dropped  and  parted  them  from  the 
other  animals.  As  these  five  cows  passed  toward  the  car 
into  which  they  were  to  be  loaded,  Bronco  called  the  brand 
and  ear-marks  to  the  inspector,  who  recorded  them.  Then 
the  cow  was  given  a  slight  shove  to  accelerate  its  movements 
into  the  open  door  of  the  car.  If  it  hesitated,  it  was  not 
long,  for  only  a  creature  of  iron  could  withstand  the  fierce 
prodding  in  the  ribs  with  sharp  wooden  poles,  and  the 
wild  yells  would  make  an  Apache  war-whoop  sound  a 
whisper  of  first  love. 

While  the  men  worked,  Limber,  seated  beside  Powell 
explained  the  system  of  territorial  inspection,  and  that  at 
each  shipping  point  an  inspector  was  stationed  to  report 
officially  on  every  brand  and  ear-mark  of  cattle  offered  for 
shipment.  Each  brand  was  registered  with  the  Live  Stock 
Sanitary  Board  at  Phoenix,  and  reports  forwarded  imme- 
diately after  any  shipment,  stating  the  owner  of  each  ani- 
mal, brand,  ear-mark,  shipper  in  charge,  buyer,  consigner 
and  consignee.  A  certificate  of  health  was  also  required, 
and  without  such  official  authority  from  the  inspector  no 
railroad  company  was  permitted  to  move  any  live  stock 
over  its  road.  The  shipper  in  charge,  was  also  compelled 
to  have  copies.  In  addition  to  these  duties,  the  inspector 
was  authorized  to  collect  and  forward  any  amounts  re- 
ceived for  stray  cattle,  whose  owners  were  not  present  or 
represented  by  an  agent.  Where  a  brand  was  found  not 
officially  registered,  such  animal  was  sold  by  the  inspector 
and  proceeds  remitted  to  the  board.  This  was  given  any 
claimant  who  could  satisfactorily  explain  negligence  to 
record  the  brand,  and  prove  beyond  doubt  his  ownership. 

Limber,  sitting  beside  Powell  on  the  corral  fence,  ex- 
plained these  laws  while  they  watched  the  inspection. 

"Some  of  the  brands  are  very  indistinct, "  said  Powell. 
"In  case  there  is  doubt,  how  is  it  decided?" 

"Inspector  clips  the  hair  over  the  brand  with  horse- 
clippers,  and  if  that  don't  settle  it,  he  sells  the  animal  to 
the  local  butcher.     You  see,  when  the  hide  is  fresh  from  a 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  185 

cow,  the  first  brand  shows  out  the  plainest,  even  if  another 
is  run  over  afterwards.  Sometimes  a  brand  is  registered 
what  gives  a  feller  the  chance  to  alter  another.  There  was, 
one  man  ran  0  Bar  0,"  Limber  drew  an  imaginary  brand 
on  the  palm  of  his  left  hand,  0-0.  "Afterward  they  found 
the  Crooked  H,  D-C,  the  <H  and  the  D  0  could  be  changed 
to  the  0-0  and  work  the  three  biggest  herds  in  the  section. 
The  fellow  was  honest,  never  aimed  to  do  no  dirty  work, 
but  the  brand  was  stopped  by  order  of  the  Live  Stock 
Sanitary  Board. 

The  fresh  draft,  headed  by  a  large  cow,  was  driven  into 
the  chute. 

"This  brand's  been  monkeyed  with,"  Holy  called  up  to 
the  inspector,  who  sat  on  an  elevated  platform  just  above 
the  chute. 

There  was  craning  of  necks  as  each  one  studied  the 
animal,  for  an  altered  brand  was  the  business  of  every 
cowman  in  the  Territory. 

"What  is  it?"  demanded  the  inspector. 

"She  looks  more  like  an  inspection  certificate  than  a 
cow,"  was  the  answer.  "Jumping  Jehosaphat!  Did  you 
ever  see  such  a  mix-up?  There's  a  B  D  looks  like  it's  been 
changed  from  aPL;  an' ol'  Mule  Shoe  Quarter  Circle  on 
her  side,  one  ear's  slit  an'  the  other's  a  jinglebob.  Hold 
on,  there's  something  on  the  other  side." 

Continuing  his  examination  he  moved  around  the  animal 
and  ejaculated  in  surprise;  "Damned  if  here  ain't  a  fresh 
Circle  Cross.    What  d'ye  know  about  that,  Glendon?" 

Every  one  looked  at  Glendon,  who  sat  at  Limber's  left 
side  on  the  railing.  But  before  he  could  reply,  Paddy 
Lafferty  jumped  into  the  corral  chute  and  stooping  down 
studied"  the  cow's  front  legs,  then  he  straightened  up  and 
spoke. 

"Oi  don't  give  a  dum  what  brand  she  carries,  that  cow 
is  moine.  She  runs  over  the  Hot  Springs  range.  Oi'd 
know  the  ould  haythin  anywheres  becase  she  got  cut  by 
barbed-wire  and  I  docthered  her,  and  she  give  me  the  diwle 


186  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

of  a  toime  when  I  was  doin'  it,  be  jabers!  There's  the 
marks  of  the  woire-cuts  on  her  fore  ankles.  That  brand's 
been  burnt  since  I  sold  the  PL  herd  to  Doctor  Powell." 

"That's  a  lie!"  shouted  Glendon.  "I  bought  her  four 
months  ago  from  a  Mexican  on  the  San  Pedro.  The  B  D 
is  his  brand.  He  had  ten  cows  and  sold  them  all  to  me 
before  he  went  back  to  Mexico." 

Paddy  looked  coolly  into  Glendon 's  bloodshot  eyes. 
ilYez  must  hev  laid  awake  noights  fixin'  up  that  loi,"  he 
sneered,  keeping  a  close  watch  on  Glendon 's  right  hand. 
"Oi  giss  the  inspecther  hed  betther  take  charge  of  her  and 
sittle  the  matther.  But  it  stroikes  me  that  B  D  is  a 
moighty  quare  brand  for  a  Greaser  to  be  running." 

"As  long  as  the  cow  has  a  P  L,"  spoke  Powell  sud- 
denly, "I  suppose  it  gives  me  a  voice  in  the  matter  also?" 

The  inspector  nodded  confirmation,  and  Powell  went  on, 
"Let  the  inspector  take  charge,  as  Paddy  suggested.  I 
don 't  want  any  animal  on  my  range  that  carries  a  disputed 
brand.  If  the  cow  belongs  to  me,  I  want  her  shipped  or 
slaughtered,  and  all  possible  disputes  about  her  ended." 

"Ship  her,"  ordered  the  inspector.  "I'll  look  up  that 
B  D  brand,  and  if  it  is  not  registered  the  proceeds  of  sale 
will  be  forwarded  to  Doctor  Powell.  If  it  is  registered,  and 
the  Greaser  has  left,  as  Glendon  claims,  it  is  up  to  Glendon 
to  prove  ownership  by  bill  of  sale  from  the  Greaser." 

"  'Tain't  the  furst  toime  your  brand  has  got  on  one  of 
my  cows,  Glen;"  asserted  Paddy  hotly.  "Oi  sold  my 
brand  and  herd  clane  and  straight  to  Docther  Powell,  and 
Oi'll  sthand  boy  that  sale  to  the  last  critter." 

Glendon 's  hand  slipped  back  a  few  inches,  but  Limber, 
sitting  beside  him,  saw  the  movement  and  gripped  his 
wrist  in  a  steel  clutch.  It  was  done  so  quickly  and  quietly 
that  no  one  but  Paddy  saw  it,  or  heard  Limber  say,  "Don't 
be  such  a  fool,  Glen.  Killin'  people  don't  change  the  laws 
of  the  Territory." 

"If  ever  I  catch  that  Greaser,  I'll  make  him  sweat  blood," 
blustered  Glendon. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  187 

Paddy  mounted  the  fence,  settled  himself,  then  filled 
his  corn-cob  pipe,  lighted  it  deliberately  and  took  a  deep 
puff  before  he  remarked  with  a  grim  smile,  "Oi'll  hilp  yez 
do  it,  Glendon — when  yez  catch  him!" 

His  wrinkled,  gnarled  hand  smoothed  the  leg  of  his 
overalls,  which  had  originally  been  the  orthordox  blue  of 
all  self-respecting  overalls,  but  long  since  had  succumbed 
to  Paddy's  washtub  and  vigorous  muscles.  Below  the 
edges  of  these  anemic  patched  garments,  loomed  one  old 
boot  and  one  shoe,  laced  crookedly  with  a  piece  of  rawhide. 

The  hand  ceased  its  caressing  movement,  and  Paddy 
squinted  up  again  at  Glendon,  "Don't  yez  be  afther  fergit- 
tin',  Glendon,  whin  yez  catch  him  I'll  take  a  hand  at  him — 
wid  yez." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY 

LIMBER  unsaddled  his  pony  in  the  Cowboys'  Rest, 
after  the  trainload  had  pulled  out.  He  found 
that  the  episode  of  the  burnt  cow  was  already  be- 
ing discussed  openly. 

"Glendon's  goin'  to  get  into  heaps  of  trouble  if  he  ain't 
more  careful,"  stated  Buckboard  to  Limber.  "He's  mixin' 
in  with  a  mighty  bad  bunch." 

Limber  hung  his  saddle  on  a  peg  and  stood  rubbing 
Peanut's  nose  gently.  "You're  sure  right,  Buckboard;" 
he  replied  slowly.  "I'm  derned  sorry  about  it.  I  done  all 
I  knew  how  to  pull  him  up,  but  'tain't  been  no  good,  so 
fur's  I  can  see.  What  stumps  me  is  why  a  fellow  what  has 
so  many  chances  to  make  good  works  as  hard  as  Glen  does 
a  dodgin'  'em.  He  come  here  with  plenty  dinero,  had 
heaps  of  friends  and  a  rich  father  to  back  him.  Then  he 
was  eddicated  and  has  the  dandiest  wife  that  ever  stepped 
on  earth.     Sometimes  I  think  he's  plumb  locoed. 

"Mrs.  Glendon's  got  a  good-sized  bunch  of  trouble  just 
now  and  more  a  comin',  unless  Glen  wakes  up  and  hits  an- 
other trail  pretty  damn  quick;"  growled  Buckboard. 
"That  Mexican  woman  is  making  a  regular  fool  of  him, 
and  gets  every  cent  that  he  handles.  I've  been  wondering 
how  much  longer  the  stores  will  carry  him.  His  herd  don't 
amount  to  shucks  any  more." 

"If  I  knowed  a  woman  like  Glendon's  wife  was  waitm* 
for  me  at  a  ranch,  I'd  think  I  was  the  richest  man  in 
Arizona  Territory,  even  if  the  ranch  only  had  one  room  and 
I  hadn't  but  five  head  of  cows;"  Limber  spoke  earnestly, 
and  old  Buckboard,  catching  the  look  on  the  cowpuncher's 
face,  paused  a  second  before  he  answered. 

188 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  189 

* i  There 's  plenty  good  men  that  would  be  a  heap  better  to 
her  than  Glendon,  for  all  his  fancy  way  of  talking.  But 
nobody  can't  do  nothin'  to  help  a  woman  like  her  when  she's 
tied  up  to  a  skunk  like  Glendon.  It's  a  damn  shame,  but 
a  woman  of  her  sort  just  goes  along  and  plays  out  the  game 
with  a  lone  hand.     But  she  plays  it  square." 

1 '  I  know.  That 's  what  makes  it  hard.  I  try  to  do  what 
I  can  to  help  Glen,  just  so's  to  ease  the  load  on  her,  but  he 
keep's  pilin'  it  up  more  and  more  every  day." 

"When  a  feller  like  him  catches  on  to  other  people  let- 
ting him  off  easy  on  account  of  her,  he'll  work  that  game 
for  all  it 's  worth.  Instead  of  tryin '  to  cover  up  his  tracks, 
it'd  be  lots  better  to  give  him  rope  enough  to  hang  him- 
self.    Then  she  could  cut  loose  from  him." 

"No  she  wouldn't,"  contradicted  Limber.  "So  long  as 
Glendon  is  above  ground  she'll  stick  to  him,  no  matter  what 
he  does.     Glen  knows  that,  too." 

"Then,  by  God!  I  hope  something  will  put  him  under 
ground  before  he  breaks  her  heart,"  exploded  Buckboard, 
giving  a  vicious  slash  with  a  tie-rope  at  a  handy  post  which 
relieved  his  irritation,  for  he  knew  Limber  had  spoken  the 
truth. 

The  conversation  was  interrupted  by  Bronco  who  has- 
tened up  to  Limber. 

"Guess  there's  goin'  to  be  trouble  in  town,"  he  an- 
nounced. 

"Glendon?"  demanded  Buckboard,  hopefully. 

"Nope.  It's  Three-fingered  Jack  this  time,"  was  the 
reply.  "Alpaugh,  the  constable,  is  away  at  Tombstone, 
and  Three-finger  come  in  last  night  and  has  been  tankin' 
up  ever  since,  and  by  this  time  he  figgers  he's  got  the  range 
to  hisself." 

"Whar's  Peachy?  Isn't  he  Deputy  Constable?"  asked 
Limber  as  they  passed  through  the  corral  gate. 

Bronco  grunted.  "Peachy?  Whar's  Peachy?"  he 
paused  to  gather  scorn.  "  Peachy 's  in  hidin'.  Jack  shot 
out  the  lights  in  the  corner  saloon  last  night  and  every  one 


190  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ducked  and  stampeded,  and  that  denied  Deputy  Constable 
dropped  on  all  fours  behind  the  bar  and  crawled  outen  the 
room  jest  like  the  yeller  pup  he  is.  All  he  needs  is  a  few 
fleas  to  finish  him!  Then  he  lit  out  in  the  back  yard  and 
one  feller  told  me  he  seen  him  jump  over  that  ten-foot 
board  fence  back  of  the  saloon,  and  he  swars  Peachy  never 
teched  it.  He's  some  jack-rabbit  when  it  comes  to  jumpin', 
and  he's  got  as  much  nerve  as  one.  Just  because  Jack's 
got  the  name  of  bein'  a  bad  man  and  handy  with  his  gun, 
he's  got  the  whole  town  buffaloed.  But  the  funny  thing 
is,  no  one  ever  knowed  who  Jack  has  killed.  He  sure  ain't 
done  no  gun-play  here  except  plug  tin  cans  to  show  off." 

4 'He  needs  some  one  to  take  that  freshness  outen  him;" 
Limber  spoke  quietly  as  though  commenting  on  the  weather. 
"If  Peachy  ain't  handy,  looks  like  it's  up  to  us  to  see  the 
Jedge  and  ask  if  he  needs  any  deputy." 

"That's  why  I  was  huntin'  you,"  was  Bronco's  answer, 
but  further  conversation  was  interrupted  by  a  fusilade  of 
shots. 

"I  guess  he's  turned  loose,"  Limber  spoke  as  they  ran 
toward  the  noises.  "Thar  ain't  no  time  now  to  see  the 
Jedge.     It's  up  to  us,  Bronc.     Come  along." 

They  were  joined  by  other  men  who  ran  from  various 
directions  and  at  a  turn  of  the  street  they  saw  Three-fin- 
gered Jack  standing  in  the  roadway,  close  to  the  office  of 
the  Justice  of  the  Peace,  who  represented  the  only  judicial 
authority  in  Willcox.  Jack's  pistol  was  smoking.  He  re- 
garded the  assembled  men  insolently. 

"I  heerd  there's  some  one  who's  going  to  serve  a  warrant 
on  me,"  challenged  Jack.  "What  I'm  afraid  of  is  that  he 
won't  know  just  where  to  find  me." 

He  wheeled  and  sent  several  bullets  against  the  large 
plate  glass  window  of  a  corner  store,  accompanied  by  a 
hair-raising  yell  as  the  glass  clattered  to  the  ground  in 
fragments. 

Limber  and  Bronco  reached  the  outer  edge  of  the  crowd 
and  pushed  through  it,  but  stopped  as  they  saw  a  man 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  191 

saunter  nonchalantly  around  the  corner  from  the  Main 
street.  He  paused,  regarded  the  crowd,  then  his  eyes  wan- 
dered interestedly  to  Jack,  who  was  busy  slipping  fresh 
cartridges  into  his  pistol. 

As  the  gunman  started  to  flourish  his  weapon,  he  became 
aware  of  the  new-comer,  who  advanced  toward  him  and 
said,  "If  I  were  you  I  would  not  shoot  so  promiscuously, 
my  friend.  You  might  accidently  hit  something,  you 
know." 

"It's  Doc,"  ejaculated  Limber,  "and  he  ain't  got  no 
gun!" 

Jack  evidently  recognized  Powell,  for  he  swung  and 
faced  him  demanding  what  he  was  talking  about. 

Powell  held  out  a  paper.  "If  you  are  Jack  Dunlap, 
known  as  Three-fingered  Jack,  and  supposed  to  be  a  gun- 
man, I  have  a  warrant  for  your  arrest.  I've  just  been 
made  special  Deputy  Constable." 

Jack  regarded  him  with  open  contempt.  "Oh,  is  that 
so?"  he  sneered.  "Well,  here  I  am!  Come  on  and  do 
your  duty,  Mr.  Special  Constable." 

Limber  pressed  toward  Powell,  with  Bronco  at  his  side, 
and  close  behind  them  loomed  Holy  and  Roarer,  but  Powell 
smiled  at  them  and  shook  his  head  at  the  puzzled  punchers 
of  the  Diamond  II.  Limber's  finger  rested  lightly  on  the 
trigger  of  his  pistol  which  apparently  hung  loosely  in  the 
hand  at  his  side.  His  eyes  glinted  dangerously,  his  lips 
were  tightened  into  a  thin  line.  Bronco  glanced  at  him, 
and  knew  Doctor  Powell  was  safe.  Only  a  few  men  were 
aware  of  the  quickness  with  which  Limber  could  draw  and 
how  accurately  the  apparently  careless  bullets  were  sent. 

"I  wonder  what  Doc  is  up  to?"  murmured  Bronco,  but 
none  of  them  could  solve  the  problem. 

Powell  moved  deliberately  toward  Jack,  who  suddenly 
began  firing  his  pistol  at  the  ground  close  to  Powell's  feet, 
yelling,  "Dance,  you  hyena  tender-foot!  Dance,  damn 
you!" 

The  ground  flew  up  and  struck  one  of  Powell 's  feet,  but 


192  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

he  only  glanced  at  the  place  as  though  interested  in  Jack's 
marksmanship.  "That  isn't  so  bad,"  he  smiled  at  the  gun- 
man. 

Jack  strode  forward,  cursing  violently,  but  the  doctor 
seemed  oblivious  to  it,  as  he  took  a  handsome  cigarette  case 
from  his  pocket,  selected  a  cigarette  with  solicitous  care  and 
lighted  it.     Then  he  looked  up  at  Jack. 

The  gun-man  was  nonplussed.  He  hesitated  to  attack  an 
unarmed  man,  not  because  of  moral  scruples  but  the  realiza- 
tion of  the  consequences  to  himself.  Jack  had  not  seen  the 
men  of  the  Diamond  H  who  were  grouped  alertly  back  of 
him,  each  man's  pistol  ready. 

Measuring  the  weight  and  height  of  Powell,  Jack,  who 
was  much  larger,  shoved  his  pistol  into  the  holster,  saying, 
"I  don't  care  to  pot  a  jack-rabbit." 

Powell  made  no  move.  Jack  advanced  in  front  of  him, 
thrust  his  face  against  the  doctor's  and  snarled,  "Well, 
what  are  you  going  to  do  about  that  warrant,  Mr.  What-d  'ye 
call  'em?" 

"Oh,  nothing  except  arrest  you,"  was  the  calm  reply 
as  the  doctor  puffed  a  little  volcano  of  cigarette  smoke  into 
Jack's  face  and  looked  him  steadily  in  the  eyes.  "I  am 
unarmed,"  said  Powell  loudly  enough  to  be  heard  by  all 
the  bystanders,  "but  I  believe  you  are  too  much  of  a  coward 
to  face  any  man  without  your  gun,  even  though  you  know 
he  is  unarmed." 

Goaded  by  the  challenge,  Jack  ripped  out  an  oath,  un- 
buckled his  pistol  belt  and  handed  it  to  a  bystander,  who 
accepted  it  with  evident  reluctance. 

"Now,  come  along,"  yelled  the  gunman.  "Come  along 
and  arrest  me,  if  you  can — but  before  you  do  it  I  'm  going 
to  take  you  across  my  knee  and  give  you  a  regular  spank- 
ing like  your  mother  used  to  do,  sonny." 

He  reached  forward.  Before  any  one  knew  what  had 
happened,  Three-fingered  Jack  was  sprawling  on  the 
ground,  while  Powell  sat  quietly  astride  the  man's  chest, 
holding  Jack's  arms  with  his  own  knees.     Jack  writhed 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  193 

and  struggled,  but  was  unable  to  disturb  the  man  who 
smiled  down  at  him.  As  Jack's  curses  increased,  Powell 
deliberately  patted  the  outlaw's  face  gently,  saying  in. 
soothing  accents,  "Don't  let  your  temper  rise,  Jack!  It 
isn't  becoming  in  such  a  regular  little  Mama's  darling  like 
you!" 

Howls  of  laughter  roused  Jack  to  the  realization  that  his 
reputation  was  at  stake.  He  broke  into  threats  of  dire 
revenge  on  Powell.  The  doctor  paid  no  attention  to  the 
man  who  was  helpless  in  the  grip  of  steel,  but  merely  asked, 
"Has  any  one  here  »  rope  that  I  could  borrow  a  short 
time?" 

Jack  stopped  cursing,  and  a  disagreeable  recollection  in- 
truded itself  upon  him.  A  man  had  asked  for  a  rope  in 
"Wyoming.  The  crowd  had  cut  Jack  dowTn  before  he  was 
entirely  unconscious,  and  Jack  had  emigrated  to  Arizona 
without  delay. 

Powell  had  no  such  intention.  The  rope  was  employed 
to  truss  the  "gun"  man  from  head  to  feet,  like  a  fly  wound 
in  a  spider's  web.  An  involuntary  murmur  of  approval 
passed  among  the  men  who  had  seen  the  episode,  but  at 
that  moment  Glendon  staggered  through  the  crowd  and  be- 
fore any  one  could  move,  levelled  a  pistol  at  Powell. 

"Take  that  rope  off,"  he  shouted  with  a  volley  of  the 
foulest  oaths  at  his  command. 

"Don't  interfere,"  warned  Powrell,  facing  Glendon. 

"You  take  that  rope  off  or  I'll  put  daylight  trough 
you,  you  white-livered  sneak,"  screamed  the  other  man. 

His  words  died  away  in  a  thud,  as  Powell  sprang  at  him 
like  a  wild-cat,  clasping  him  about  the  arms  and  falling 
heavily  to  the  ground  with  Glendon  sprawled  underneath. 
The  pistol  in  Glendon 's  hand  flew  through  the  air,  struck 
the  ground  and  exploded  harmlessly  in  the  dust. 

"I'll  need  another  rope,"  apologized  Powell  in  unrufled 
tones.     "I'm  sorry  to  trouble  you  again." 

There  was  a  laugh,  and  in  less  time  than  it  takes  to  re- 
late, Glendon  was  as  helpless  as  Jack.     The  sight  of  them 


194.  THE  LONG  DIM'  TRAIL 

lying  side  by  side  was  too  much  for  the  gravity  of  the 
crowd,  and  laughter  was  unrestrained.  Powell  looked  down 
at  Glendon,  but  there  was  no  triumph  in  his  heart.  A 
woman's  pleading  face  rose  between  him  and  the  man  at 
his  feet  who  was  voicing  his  vile  thoughts  and  threats. 
Three-fingered  Jack  turned  his  head  slightly  and  there  was 
a  twitch  of  the  ' '  gun ' '  man 's  mouth,  but  he  made  no  remark. 

The  driver  of  the  one  and  only  town  truck  was  standing 
on  the  seat  of  his  wagon  surveying  the  captured  men. 
Powell  called  to  him,  "How  much  will  you  charge  to  haul 
this  load  to  the  calaboose  ?" 

"Do  it  for  nothing,' '  replied  the  driver  promptly. 

So  he  and  Powell,  assisted  by  many  volunteers,  lifted 
the  mummy-like  forms  into  the  wagon,  then  the  entire  as- 
semblage followed  behind  the  vehicle  as  it  moved  slowly 
down  the  street. 

"Gee!"  laughed  Holy,  "That  was  the  funniest  sight  I 
ever  seed  in  my  life." 

"Looks  like  the  funeral  of  a  real,  respectable  citizen," 
squeaked  Roarer. 

"Well,  it's  Jack's  funeral,  sure  enough,"  answered  Lim- 
ber. "He's  a  dead  '  bad  man'  from  now  on,  but  the  doc- 
tor has  won  his  spurs,  you  bet!" 

The  wagon  stopped  in  front  of  the  little  adobe  building 
which  was  used  as  the  town  jail,  and  Powell  assisted  the 
driver  to  lift  the  prisoners  bodily  into  the  room  which  took 
the  place  of  a  cell.  The  ropes  were  removed.  Jack  and 
Glendon  stood  free  in  front  of  their  captor.  He  eyed  them 
in  silence  a  few  seconds,  then  said,  "I  want  you  both  to 
understand  that  I  had  no  personal  feeling  in  anything  I 
did.  Law  is  law,  whether  in  Arizona  or  any  other  place. 
Gun-play  is  for  bullies,  not  men." 

Neither  replied.  Powell  picked  up  the  two  ropes  and 
left  the  place.  Outside  he  found  Limber  waiting,  but 
there  was  no  reference  to  what  had  just  taken  place. 
Powell  handed  the  ropes  to  Limber  and  asked  him  to  locate 
the  owners,  then  the  doctor  continued  down  the  street  to 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  195 

the  office  of  the  Justice  of  Peace,  who  smiled  at  him  cordially. 

4 'It  was  just  a  simple  trick  of  jiu-jitsu,"  explained 
Powell.  "But  now  I  want  to  know  how  much  the  fine  will 
be  for  Jack  and  Glendon?" 

"Thirty  dollars,  or  thirty  days  in  the  Tombstone  jail," 
answered  the  Justice. 

Powell  reached  across  the  desk  and  appropriated  a  pen 
which  he  dipped  into  the  ink-well.  He  drew  out  his  check- 
book, saying,  ' '  I  suppose  this  is  permissable  ? ' '  The  Judge 
nodded. 

"It  may  be  a  little  hard  on  them  to  pay  the  fine,"  Powell 
spoke  as  he  wrote.  "I  don't  want  them  to  know  who  did 
it.  Keep  the  matter  between  ourselves.  They  have  had  a 
lesson,  I  think." 

"The  best  in  the  world,"  responded  the  Judge,  smiling 
at  his  recollection  of  the  two  trussed  figures  in  the  wagon. 

It  was  only  a  short  time  later  that  Limber  hunted  up  the 
Judge  and  volunteered  to  stand  good  for  any  fine  imposed 
on  Glendon.  When  he  was  told  that  another  person  had 
assumed  the  responsibility  already,  for  both  men,  Limber 
left  the  office  feeling  pretty  certain  that  Powell  had  an- 
ticipated his  own  intention.  But  neither  of  them  ever 
spoke  of  the  matter. 

When  the  full  moon  peered  over  the  horizon  that  night, 
it  shone  on  two  men  who  rode  slowly  toward  the  Hot 
Springs  ranch,  each  of  them  glad  to  be  back  again  in  the 
peace  of  the  mountains.  And  down  in  a  cell,  the  moon- 
light flooded  the  floor  criss-crossed  with  black  bars  from  the 
window,  and  two  men  lay  thinking  in  the  silent  hours  of 
the  night,  but  like  the  men  who  rode  to  the  Springs,  neither 
of  them  told  his  inmost  thoughts  to  the  other.  Some 
thoughts  are  too  holy  to  be  spoken  aloud ;  others  too  black. 

The  next  morning  Glendon  and  Jack,  thoroughly  sobered, 
were  brought  before  the  Judge  for  their  hearing.  After  a 
sharp  warning  that  a  second  offense  would  mean  much 
heavier  penalty,  a  fine  of  thirty  dollars  each  was  im- 
posed. 


196  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"I  can't  pay  it,  Judge,"  confessed  Jack,  frankly.  "I'm 
broke,  owe  three  months  advance  wages  and  have  to  find  a 
job." 

"Maybe  Glendon  can  pay  both  fines  until  you  are  able 
to  work  it  out,"  suggested  the  Judge  aimiably. 

"I've  got  all  I  can  do  to  pay  my  own,"  was  the  surly 
reply.     "Unless  Norton  will  advance  it,  I'm  stuck." 

"It  seems  too  bad  to  have  to  send  you  both  to  the  Tomb- 
stone jail  for  thirty  days,  boys,"  sympathized  the  Justice. 
"If  the  offense  had  not  been  so  serious,  I  might  have  held 
you  in  the  calaboose;  but  the  charge  was  not  only  disturb- 
ing the  peace,  but  also  resisting  an  officer." 

A  grin  spread  over  Jack's  face.  "Say,  Judge,  that's  a 
real  joke!  Did  you  see  how  fur  we  resisted?  Well,  I 
guess  we  deserved  it,  and  it's  up  to  us  to  take  our  medicine 
like  little  men. " 

"  I  'm  glad  to  hear  you  say  that,  Jack.  Now,  I  want  you 
both  to  give  me  your  word  of  honour  that  you  will  not 
make  any  further  disturbance  in  Willcox  after  this." 

"All  right,"  Jack  answered  readily,  looking  squarely 
into  the  Judge's  face.  "I  don't  hold  any  grudge  against 
Powell.     I  own  up  he 's  a  better  man  than  I  am. ' ' 

"Glendon?" 

"I  wouldn't  have  made  such  an  ass  of  myself  if  I  had 
been  sober,"  was  Glendon 's  evasive  answer,  while  he  eyed 
a  knot  hole  in  the  board  at  his  feet. 

"Both  fines  have  been  already  paid." 

They  looked  up  amazed.  "Who  was  it?"  demanded 
Jack. 

"I  am  not  at  liberty  to  tell,"  was  the  reply. 

Jack  stared  a  moment,  then  a  smile  spread  over  his  face, 
"By  Gosh!  I  bet  it  was  that  doctor!"  he  exclaimed. 
"Say,  Judge  if  it  was  him,  will  you  tell  him  I'm  much 
obliged,  and  that  he's  a  white  man,  and  I'll  lick  the  stuf- 
fing out  of  any  one  that  picks  on  him,  if  he  just  lets  me  know 
anytime ! ' ' 

Glendon  made  no  comments  as  he  left  the  office,  but  Jack 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  197 

turned  back  at  the  threshold  to  call,  "I'm  going  to  get  out 
of  town  as  fast  as  I  can,  Judge.  I've  got  to  hustle  for  a 
job  so  I  can  pay  back  that  fine.  I'll  see  that  the  money 
gets  to  you  p.  d.  q.     So  long!" 

"Good  luck,  boys,"  answered  the  Judge  heartily.  Then 
turned  to  his  desk  and  papers,  thinking  that  there  was  more 
manhood  to  the  "gun  man"  than  the  one  who  accompanied 
him.  The  two  walked  side  by  side  in  apparent  friendliness 
until  Jack  said,  "Well,  that  was  a  surprise  party  all  around, 
Glen.  I  bet  I  hit  the  bull's  eye  guessing  it  was  the  doc- 
tor." 

Glendon's  eyes  glinted  angrily  at  Jack's  open  praise  of 
Powell.  "He  certainly  made  a  laughing-stock  of  you," 
snarled  Glendon.  "Threw  you  down,  trussed  you  up  like 
a  Christmas  turkey,  loaded  you  in  the  town  truck,  and  now 
you  are  ready  to  lick  his  boots  in  gratitude  after  he  puts 
the  last  insult  on  you  by  paying  your  fine.  Pah !  You 
make  me  sick ! ' ' 

Jack  gripped  the  other  man's  arm  angrily.  "See,  here, 
Glen!  I'm  not  such  a  mollycoddle  that  I  won't  fight  you 
or  any  other  man  that  talks  that  way  to  me."  Jack  stood 
glaring  down  at  Glendon,  who  returned  the  angry  stare. 
Then  a  grin  started  on  Jack's  face,  and  he  drawled  slowly, 
"Don't  see  that  you've  got  any  call  over  me,  Glen.  There 
was  two  Christmas  turkeys,  but  you  did  the  loudest  gob- 
bling.    Don't  you  ever  forget  that!" 

"I'm  not  apt  to,"  retorted  the  other.  "I  never  would 
have  been  mixed  up  in  it  if  I  hadn't  been  trying  to  help 
you  out." 

"And  I  wouldn't  have  started  anything  if  it  hadn't  been 
for  you  egging  me  on.  You  said  he  was  a  tenderfoot. 
Tenderfoot!  Wow!  I'd  like  to  know  what  kind  of  bad 
men  they  have  where  he  came  from,  if  he 's  a  tenderfoot ! ' ' 
He  paused  to  ponder  over  the  possibilities  of  such  an  in- 
dividual. "See,  here,  Glen,  so  long  as  Powell  minds  his 
business,  I'll  mind  mine ;  and  if  you've  got  a  grudge  against 


198  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

him  on  account  of  his  getting  the  Springs,  you  needn't  try 
to  get  me  to  take  it  out  on  him  for  you." 

Glendon's  face  was  white  with  rage.  "I  suppose  that 
means  you  are  going  to  take  backwater  on  everything  and 
join  some  Church  and  shout  'Hallelujah!  I'm  saved!' 
Eh?" 

"It  means  just  what  I  said.  If  you've  got  any  pick 
on  Powell  that  is  your  own  business.  As  far  as  the  other 
plans  go,  the  cards  are  dealt  already,  and  I  '11  stand  pat. ' ' 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-ONE 

TIREE  months  after  Glendon  and  Jack  had  encoun- 
tered Doctor  Powell  in  Willcox,  Katherine  was  sit- 
ting on  the  porch  of  her  home  reading  to  Donnie. 
The  noise  of  crunching  wheels  sounded  far  down  the  canon 
long  before  a  vehicle  came  into  sight  between  the  dense 
mesquite  brush. 

It  was  Doctor  Powell  who  had  returned  from  a  trip  to 
Willcox.  Katherine  watched  her  husband  receive  his  mail, 
but  she  was  not  aware  that  the  eyes  of  the  two  men  met 
with  unconcealed  antagonism,  and  the  conversation  was  as 
curt  as  possible. 

No  whisper  of  the  affair  in  Willcox  had  reached  the  ears 
of  Glendon 's  wife.  She  had  no  knowledge  that  her  hus- 
band had  borrowed  money  to  send  to  the  Judge  without  a 
word  of  thanks  to  his  unknown  benefactor.  The  money 
had  been  forwarded  to  Powell  by  the  Judge.  The  other 
fine  was  sent  the  Judge  by  Three-fingered  Jack,  accompanied 
by  a  badly  scrawled  note  of  thanks  addressed  to  the  Justice 
of  Peace  and  asking  that  the  man  who  had  paid  the  fine  be 
told  that  it  was  appreciated,  and  that  if  he  ever  needed 
any  help  to  call  on  Three-fingered  Jack. 

Aware  of  Glendon 's  dislike,  Powell's  visits  to  the  Circle 
Cross  had  ceased  some  time  previous  to  the  Willcox  trouble, 
but  Katherine  ascribed  the  doctor's  aloofness  to  his  knowl- 
edge of  her  husband's  habits.  Though  she  missed  the  in- 
frequent visits,  she  did  not  resent  it.  She  knew  that  the 
two  men  had  nothing  in  common  to  make  them  congenial. 

The  doctor,  seeing  Katherine  and  Donnie  on  the  porch, 
hesitated  as  he  was  about  to  drive  away.  He  glanced  at 
them,  and  with  a  touch  of  his  hat  in  greeting,  stepped 

199 


200  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

into  the  buggy  and  went  on  his  way.  The  happy  light 
faded  from  Donnie 's  eyes,  but  without  a  word  he  slipped 
down  again  beside  his  mother,  his  arm  about  Tatters'  neck. 

Glendon  came  slowly  to  the  porch  with  the  canvas  mail- 
pouch  on  his  arm.  He  threw  off  his  broad-brimmed  Stet- 
son, unbuckled  his  spurs  and  sat  down  to  read  his  letters 
without  vouchsafing  a  word  to  his  wife. 

' ' Is  there  nothing  for  me?"  she  asked  finalty,  hesitating 
to  take  the  sack  from  his  lap  and  sort  its  contents. 

"Only  papers  and  some  of  your  fool  magazines,"  he 
snapped.  "Seems  to  me  you  are  old  enough  to  get  over 
reading  sentimental  trash." 

Unmindful  of  his  words  she  reached  for  the  books  he 
tossed  angrily  toward  her.  Books  were  the  only  antidote 
for  the  mental  atrophy  she  dreaded.  Rising,  she  picked 
them  up,  but  paused  as  Glendon  glanced  impatiently  from 
a  letter  in  his  hands. 

"Wait,  can't  you?  Or  is  the  'continued  in  our  next' 
too  important?"  he  demanded. 

She  did  not  reply,  but  seated  herself  quietly.  Her  eyes 
were  unusually  bright,  for  on  a  page  of  the  magazine  she 
held,  she  had  seen  a  title.  A  thrill  akin  to  that  when  she 
had  first  held  Donnie  in  her  arms,  made  her  heart  throb 
quickly. 

Donnie  had  been  flesh  of  her  flesh,  bone  of  her  bone ;  but 
this,  the  first-born  of  her  brain,  had  come  through  travail 
of  her  very  soul.  It  was  not  necessary  for  her  to  read  the 
eight  lines  of  the  poem;  they  were  indelibly  imprinted  on 
her  memory.  A  mother  cannot  forget  the  face  of  her 
child,  and  though  it  be  commonplace  and  unattractive  to 
all  the  world,  in  her  eyes  it  is  beautiful. 

Glendon 's  voice  brought  her  back  from  her  world  of 
dreams. 

"I  wish  you'd  stop  sitting  there  staring  like  a  locoed 
calf,  and  pay  attention  to  what  I  have  to  say." 

She  turned  her  eyes  on  him.  " I 'm  sorry,  Jim.  I  didn't 
hear  you  speak." 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  201 

1 '  I  didn  't, ' '  lie  snapped.  ' '  No  use  talking  when  you  have 
a  mooning  fit  on.'' 

"I  a  in  listening,  dear.     What  is  it?" 

"Here's  a  letter  from  the  old  man.  He  wants  Donald. 
You  can  see  for  yourself  what  he  says. ' ' 

Glendon  handed  her  the  letter,  allowing  it  to  drop  from 
his  fingers  purposely,  watching  her  as  she  reached  down 
and  picked  it  up. 

As  she  read,  a  grey  pallor  spread  over  her  face,  making 
it  look  old  and  haggard. 

J.  M.  Glendon,  Jr. 

Circle  Cross  Ranch,  Arizona. 
Dear  Sir: 

From  reliable  sources  I  have  learned  of  your  conduct 
since  you  went  to  Arizona,  and  understand  that  my  ambi- 
tion to  see  my  son  a  man  among  men  will  never  be  grati- 
fied ;  nor  will  your  influence  or  example  make  such  a  man  of 
my  grandson,  Donald.  The  full  realization  of  this  has 
prompted  me  to  break  my  determination  never  to  communi- 
cate with  you  again  on  any  subject. 

Your  wife  is  too  egotistical  and  assertive,  and  her  in- 
fluence over  the  boy  cannot  fail  to  be  detrimental.  IV  omen 
have  no  idea  how  to  bring  up  a  boy,  especially  college-bred 
women  with  their  fads  and  theories.  They  have  no  judg- 
ment outside  of  flattery;  they  are  all  fools, — I  do  not  care 
where  you  go,  or  who  the  woman  may  be, — and  the  man  who 
tries  to  please  a  woman's  whims  is  a  fool. 

My  lawyer  tells  me  that  under  the  laws  of  Arizona  you 
are  absolute  guardian  of  your  child;  so  the  decision  as  to 
my  offer  rests  entirely  with  you.  Your  wife,  legally,  has 
no  voice  in  the  matter  of  selecting  a  school  or  any  other 
arrangements  you  may  see  fit  to  make.  It  is  time  for  you 
to  assert  yourself. 

I  will  take  Donald  and  educate  him,  provided  he  is  given 
to  me  absolutely  until  he  is  of  age,  but  I  will  not  allow  any 
interference  with  him  or  my  plans  for  him.  I  will  see  that 
he  does  not  grow  up  with  any  sickly,  sentimental  ideas, 
but    to    weigh    his   own    interests   first,    without    illusions 


202  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

about  life  or  women.  He  will  be  taught  that  all  women 
are  inferior  in  intellect  and  reason,  weak  in  moral  force  and 
must  be  treated  accordingly.  If  he  is  sent  to  me,  I  will  see 
that  he  is  provided  for  during  my  lifetime,  and  at  my  death 
he  will  receive  what  you  have  forfeited  by  your  own  con- 
duct. 

I  have  selected  a  school  for  him  which  he  can  attend  from 
my  house,  and  where  he  will  receive  the  training  I  consider 
necessary  to  make  him  the  kind  of  man  I  desire.  An  im- 
mediate answer  will  oblige. 

Yours  truely, 
J.  M.  Glendon,  Sr. 

The  pages  fluttered  to  the  floor  of  the  porch,  and  then 
Donnie  looked  up  startled  at  the  tone  of  his  mother's 
voice,  when  she  said,  "Run  away  and  play  with  Tatters, 
dear." 

With  a  hasty  caress,  the  boy,  followed  by  the  dog,  moved 
slowly  toward  the  front  gate. 

"Well,"  Glendon's  irritable  tones  sounded  in  her  ears, 
"how  soon  can  you  get  him  ready?" 

"Let  me  keep  him  a  little  longer,  Jim,"  pleaded  the 
mother.     "He's  only  a  baby  yet." 

"He's  going  on  seven,"  retorted  Glendon.  "You've  al- 
ways been  harping  on  wanting  him  to  have  a  good  educa- 
tion. Now  you've  got  your  wish,  I  don't  see  what  kick 
you've  got  coming.  I'll  never  have  money  enough  to 
send  him  away  to  school  unless  the  old  man  helps  me  more 
than  he  has  done  the  last  five  years." 

Curbing  her  inclination  to  remind  him  bitterly  that  other 
men  who  were  not  drinking,  but  attending  to  their  ranches 
and  stock,  were  able  to  afford  schools  for  their  children,  she 
said,  "It  has  been  my  ambition  ever  since  he  was  born,  but 
there  are  other  things  more  important  to  his  character  that 
I  can  teach  him  in  the  next  two  years." 

Glendon  lighted  a  cigarette  and  an  ugly  sneer  distorted 
his  lips,  "Want  to  tie  him  to  your  apron-strings,  the  way 
you  had  me  tied?     Fine  mess  you've  made  of  it  for  me! 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  203 

If  you  hadn't  been  so  high-headed  with  my  folks,  I  never 
would  have  left  home  to  come  to  this  God-forsaken  hole 
and  bury  myself  alive ! ' ' 

"I  hoped  it  would  strengthen  you,  help  you  conquer 
yourself  if  we  came  away  from  companions  who  dominated 
you  back  there;  but  I  was  wrong.  All  your  better  in- 
stincts are  dead  and  there  is  nothing  left  between  us  in  com- 
mon. Jim,  if  ever  you  had  any  love  in  your  heart  for  me, 
don't  send  Donnie  away  just  now.  Have  you  forgotten 
that  prisoners  go  mad  from  solitary  confinement? 

"Your  dramatics  are  wasted  on  me!  I  intend  to  be 
master  in  my  own  home.  Father  shall  have  the  boy  if  he 
wishes,  and  I  hope  he  will  knock  some  of  those  fool  ideas 
you  have  been  putting  into  Donnie 's  head  lately.  They'll 
mould  his  character  into  something  practical." 

"They  do  not  understand  children,"  Katherine's  voice 
trembled,  "your  father  means  well,  but  Donnie  would  learn 
to  be  a  hypocrite  through  fear  of  him,  or  it  would  break  the 
child's  heart.  When  Donnie  is  older,  he  would  understand 
better." 

"Go  ahead!"  Glendon's  lip  lifted  one  side  of  his  mouth 
and  gave  him  the  appearance  of  a  dog  snarling.  His  blood- 
shot eyes  glared  at  him  wife.  "I  say  the  boy  shall  go. 
That  settles  it!" 

"You  shall  not  take  him  from  me,"  Katherine  spoke 
passionately  as  she  rose  and  faced  her  husband,  who  had 
also  risen.  ' '  He  is  mine !  For  his  sake  I  have  endured  the 
isolation  of  this  place,  the  curses  and  abuse  you  have  heaped 
upon  me,  the  degradation  that  I  saw  facing  you.  I  have 
not  been  blind  to  the  class  of  men  you  associate  with  now, 
but  I  struggled  to  keep  you  from  sinking  lower,  just  be- 
cause you  were  the  father  of  my  boy.  The  last  eight  years 
of  my  life  have  been  continual  mental  starvation  and  moral 
crucifixion.  Donnie  has  given  me  the  strength  to  bear  it, 
now  he  will  give  me  the  strength  to  keep  you  from  robbing 
me  of  him ! ' ' 

"You  may  as  well  stop  your  hysterical  ranting,"  Glenden 


204  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

shouted  furiously.  "The  law  gives  the  boy  to  me,  and  I 
say  he  shall  go  to  father  next  week." 

"The  law  gives  the  child  to  the  father,"  her  voice  quiv- 
ered with  indignation,  "No  matter  what  that  father  may 
be;  while  the  mother,  who  goes  down  to  death  to  give  the 
child  life,  has  no  right!  Oh,  it  is  infamous!  Why,  even 
the  wild  animals  recognize  a  mother's  rights.  Men  who 
frame  such  a  law  and  enforce  it  are  worse  than  brutes!" 

Glendon  seized  her  arm  roughly  and  glared  into  her 
white,  defiant  face,  his  own  was  livid  with  rage.  "Nothing 
on  God's  earth  can  prevent  Donnie  from  going." 

1 '  He  shall  not  go ! "  her  voice  became  suddenly  quiet  and 
determined,  and  her  eyes  met  Glendon 's  without  flinching. 
1  ■  You  owe  him  to  me  in  return  for  the  things  of  which  you 
have  robbed  us  both.  He  has  never  had  a  father,  never 
dared  to  laugh  like  other  children  do,  because  he  was  afraid 
of  you.  I  will  not  never  give  him  up  to  you  or  any  one 
else.     He  is  mine!" 

Glendon  thrust  her  away  from  him  with  such  violence 
that  she  staggered.  "I  have  the  law  back  of  me  and  I'll 
do  what  I  say,  if  I  have  to  walk  over  your  dead  body  to 
doit!" 

He  flung  himself  into  the  house,  knocking  over  a  chair 
as  he  passed  it;  then  a  bottle  clinked  against  a  glass. 

The  leaves  of  the  magazine  at  the  woman 's  feet,  fluttered 
in  the  breeze  while  she  stared  with  despairing  eyes  at  the 
grim  mountains  that  walled  her  like  a  prison. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-TWO 


1 


^HE  next  morning  was  Wednesday,  and  Glendon  an- 
nounced that  he  would  start  East  with  Donnie  on 
Saturday  of  the  following  week. 

Katherine  made  no  reply,  uttered  no  protest.  He  sup- 
posed the  silence  of  despair  meant  submission,  as  he  and 
Juan  started  for  Allan  Flats,  half  way  to  Willcox,  to  be 
gone  several  days. 

"I'll  be  home  Sunday  night,"  were  his  last  words  as 
he  spurred  his  horse  and  headed  it  toward  the  road  leading 
out  of  the  canon.  Juan  lingered  a  few  seconds  to  say 
"Adios"  to  the  mother  and  child.  The  old  Mexican  carried 
a  heavy  heart,  for  no  one  but  the  child  was  ignorant  of  the 
impending  separation. 

The  day  passed  happily  for  Donnie,  while  his  mother 
devoted  her  entire  time  to  him.  They  strolled  down  the 
canon,  picking  wild-flowers,  then  returning  home,  decorated 
the  rooms  and  discovered  tha4:  Juan  had  made  a  chocolate 
layer  cake  for  their  enjoyment.  After  supper  they  sat 
talking  of  the  wonderful  things  Donnie  was  to  do  when  he 
was  grown.  Then  followed  an  hour  in  the  dining-room 
with  the  beloved  Galahad. 

The  next  morning  at  breakfast,  Donnie  asked,  "What 
are  we  going  to  do  today,  Marmeef" 

"Just  whatever  you  wish,"  she  answered  with  smiling 
lips,  but  sad  eyes. 

1 '  Can 't  we  go  on  a  picnic,  Marmee  ? ' ' 

"Yes,  dear,"  was  her  reply.     "I'll  fix  a  lunch  and  saddle 

the  ponies  and  we'll  be  adventurers  riding  out  to  discover 

a  new  country,  and  we  won't  come  home  till  the  stars  are 

out." 

205 


206  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Donnie  waited  happily  as  his  mother  prepared  the  lunch. 
With  practised  fingers  she  saddled  their  ponies;  on  the 
boy's  saddle,  tied  a  canteen  of  water  and  the  flour-sack 
containing  lunch,  while  on  her  own  was  fastened  a  roll  of 
Navajo  blankets. 

Katherine  determined  to  snatch  all  the  happiness  possible 
for  the  child  and  herself  during  her  husband's  absence. 
Today  she  would  forget  that  there  must  be  a  tomorrow; 
today  the  child  was  her  own,  despite  his  father,  despite  the 
laws  of  the  Territory  which  said  she  had  no  right  to  her 
boy.  So  her  smile  met  the  child's  laughter  as  they  mounted 
their  ponies  and  rode  down  the  slope  of  the  canon  to  the 
place  where  the  trail  struck  up  the  divide  leading  to  Jack- 
son Flats. 

It  was  a  tortuous  trail.  At  times,  going  up  the  brushy 
mountain  sides,  where  cat-claw,  mesquite,  cacti  and  mescal 
struggled  between  immense  rocks.  Disturbed  quail,  rab- 
bits, an  enormous  lizard — the  harmless  brother  of  the 
poisonous  Gila  Monster — dashed  across  the  trail.  Each 
tiny  incident  was  food  for  animated  conversation  between 
the  two  riders;  a  new  flower,  a  change  of  view  as  they 
reached  a  certain  point.  In  places  there  was  hardly  room 
for  their  sure-footed  ponies  to  travel  single  file.  One  side 
of  the  trail  was  a  high,  rocky  cliff,  while  the  other  side 
dropped  a  thousand  feet  below.  A  displaced  rock  clattered 
down  the  gully,  startling  a  mountain-lion  which  leaped 
from  a  freshly  killed  calf  and  skulked  away.  A  coyote 
appeared  between  boulders  on  the  opposite  side  of  the 
canon,  squatted  down  and  watched  the  riders  curiously. 

Half  way  up  the  mountain  they  rode  into  a  cave  that 
was  large  enough  to  shelter  twenty  horses  and  men.  The 
domed  roof  rose  forty  feet  and  the  sides  of  the  cave  were 
painted  with  curious  emblems  of  a  dead  and  unknown 
people.  The  floor  was  strewn  with  bits  of  broken  earthen 
pottery,  decorated  with  the  same  characters  as  the  walls. 
A  few  arrowheads  of  green  and  black  flint  were  scattered 
among  the  fragments  of  pottery;  all  that  was  left  to  tell 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  207 

the  history  of  those  who  had  loved,  hated,  laughed  and 
wept — then  died. 

It  had  been  a  favourite  ride  for  the  mother  and  child, 
and  the  relics  had  made  foundation  for  many  games  and 
stories.  So  the  boy  gathered  pieces  of  the  pottery  and 
amused  himself  trying  to  match  them  together,  in  emulation 
of  his  mother.  As  they  worked  she  told  him  the  history  of 
those  who  had  lived  in  this  cave  and  fashioned  the  earthen 
jars.  After  a  couple  of  hours  the  novelty  wore  off,  and 
Donnie  wanted  to  ride  further. 

"We  can  go  to  the  top  of  the  Box,"  said  his  mother. 
"  You've  never  been  there  yet;  but  it  will  be  a  hard  climb. " 

The  child  begged  to  try  it,  for  she  had  told  him  that 
when  they  reached  the  top  of  the  mountain  they  could  see 
far  across  other  hill-tops,  beyond  the  San  Pedro  River — 
an  unknown  world  to  him. 

After  she  had  tightened  the  cinches  of  the  saddles  and 
they  were  mounted,  she  instructed  the  boy,  "Lean  well 
forward  in  your  saddle  and  hold  the  horn  tightly,  dear. 
Give  Pet  a  loose  rein  and  you  will  not  have  any  trouble  at 
all.  He  will  follow  Fox.  It  is  a  hard  climb,  and  if  you 
jerk  on  the  reins  you  will  make  Pet  fall  back." 

The  horses  headed  what  appeared  almost  a  perpendi- 
cular wall.  Donnie  saw  Fox  stretch  his  body  like  a  grey- 
hound and  fairly  hurl  himself  in  leaps  at  the  steep  incline, 
scattering  stones  in  every  direction.  Pet  stood  a  moment, 
undecided,  then  with  a  shrill  whinny  started  after  Fox. 
Donnie  grasped  the  horn  of  the  saddle  and  clung  to  it 
desperately,  leaning  forward  and  shutting  his  eyes.  His 
back  jerked,  his  head  wouldn't  keep  still,  his  heart  beat 
violently. 

"If  Pet  would  only  keep  still  a  minute,"  thought  the 
child.  "Suppose  Fox  were  to  fall  with  Marmee,  what 
would  I  do?" 

He  pulled  on  the  reins,  but  Pet,  watching  Fox,  fought 
the  bit,  and  lunged  ahead. 

As  if  in  answer  to  Donnie 's  thoughts,  his  mother's  voice 


208  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

drifted  cheerily  back  to  him:  "Almost  there,  dear. 
Tired?" 

"Just  a  little  bit,"  he  replied,  trying  to  be  brave,  but 
wishing  he  could  ride  up  beside  her  and  hold  her  hand  a 
minute.  Then  he  remembered  Galahad  had  ridden  alone, 
and  knights  were  not  afraid  of  anything.  He  pretended 
that  the  trail  led  to  the  castle  of  an  enemy  and  he  was  going 
to  rescue  those  held  prisoners,  so  with  bolstered  courage,  he 
kept  his  eyes  open  and  fixed  on  the  horse  ahead  of  him. 

They  reached  a  sharp  knoll  that  formed  the  apex  of  the 
mountain;  and  after  slipping  from  the  ponies  and  tying 
them  to  a  stunted  bit  of  scrub  oak,  Katherine  clasped 
Donnie's  hand  in  her  own,  and  together  they  approached 
the  edge  of  the  cliff,  and  peered  cautiously  over. 

Two  thousand  feet  below  was  the  canon,  but  where  they 
gazed,  four  solid  walls  arose  like  a  gigantic  box  without  a 
cover.  There  was  no  entrance  or  exit.  The  Mexicans 
called  the  place  El  Cajon,  or  the  Box.  Grass,  flowers,  trees 
and  a  trickling  stream  from  a  spring  lay  at  the  bottom  of 
the  Box,  but  nothing  living  could  reach  there.  The  walls 
were  as  straight  and  sheer  as  the  name  of  the  place  implied. 

They  drew  back  from  inspecting  it,  and  at  Katherine 's 
suggestion  Donnie  gathered  wild  flowers  to  decorate  the 
table  on  which  she  spread  the  lunch.  The  mother  made 
a  pretense  at  eating,  but  the  memory  of  the  impending 
separation  thrust  itself  on  her  despite  her  determination 
to  forget  it  this  one  day.  Neither  she  nor  Glendon  had  told 
the  child,  so  no  shadow  of  tragedy  spoiled  his  enjoyment. 

The  ride  had  tired  him,  and  after  lunch  was  over,  she 
arranged  the  Navajo  blankets.  He  stretched  out  lazily, 
watching  his  mother  draw  his  favourite  book  from  her 
saddlebag.     Then  he  curled  up  with  a  sigh  of  ecstasy. 

"Where  shall  I  read?"  she  asked,  smiling  down  at  him. 

"How  Sir  Galahad  was  made  a  knight,"  he  answered, 
"and  about  the  Siege  Perilous." 

So  she  read  until  the  brown  head  nodded  and  the  eyes 
closed  slowly,  then  seeing  the  boy  slept,  she  laid  the  book 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  209 

aside,  sitting  motionless  and  watching  him  with  miserable 
eyes. 

A  white-winged  butterfly  flitted  past  her  and  hovered 
over  the  boy's  hand,  finally  settling  lightly  on  it  then  dart- 
ing on  its  way.  She  recalled  the  story  of  the  baby  Galahad 
in  his  mother's  arms  and  the  white  dove  that  had  flown 
through  the  window,  and  the  words  of  the  maiden  who 
bore  the  Sangreal,  "And  he  shall  be  a  much  better  knight 
than  his  father. ' ' 

A  mother-quail  with  her  tiny  brood  slipped  from  the 
brush,  peering  about  as  she  came  forward.  Fearing  noth- 
ing from  the  sleeping  child  or  the  mother  who  did  not  move, 
the  quail  called  her  little  ones  about  her  and  shared  with 
them  the  discovery  of  some  crumbs.  Katherine  watched 
them  enviously;  then  her  eyes  strayed  to  the  child.  Re- 
bellion against  the  law,  against  her  husband,  his  father,  and 
life  itself,  overwhelmed  her  The  quail  had  more  right  to 
its  brood  than  she  had  to  her  child. 

The  shadows  lengthened  as  she  sat  fighting  her  battle, 
all  the  training  and  beliefs   of  years  falling  from   her. 

What  was  the  use  of  fighting  any  longer?  She  looked 
at  the  Box.  It  was  so  quiet  down  there ;  no  one  could  take 
Donnie  away  from  her.  Just  a  step,  and  they  would  be 
safe  together. 

Her  lips  grew  tense,  and  smoothing  a  piece  of  paper  that 
had  been  wrapped  about  the  lunch,  she  searched  the  saddle 
pocket  until  she  found  a  stump  of  pencil,  with  which  she 
wrote : 

Jim: 

I  could  not  give  up  my  boy  to  have  him  learn  that  money 
was  the  only  thing  worth-while — to  be  cruel  and  self-indul- 
gent as  your  father  wants  him  to  be.  I  told  you  that  you 
owed  him  to  me  in  payment  of  your  debt.  The  law  refuses 
my  child  to  me ;  you,  too,  would  rob  me  of  him,  even  though 
you  know  it  will  break  his  heart  and  mine. 

I  prayed  God  to  aid  me,  and  He  will  not  answer  my 
prayers.     When  you  read  this,  Donnie  and  I  will  be  to- 


210  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

gether  at  the  bottom  of  the  Box.     I  did  the  best  I  could  for 
you,  and  failed ;  but  I  will  not  fail  with  the  boy. 

Katherine. 

Her  hand  was  firm  as  she  signed  her  name,  and  folding 
the  paper,  she  tied  it  to  a  stone  which  she  placed  in  the 
empty  sack  that  had  contained  the  lunch.  The  stone  would 
attract  attention  when  the  sack  was  untied.  Securing  the 
sack  to  her  side-saddle,  she  removed  the  halter-ropes  from 
the  ponies'  necks;  then  slipping  both  bridles,  she  tied  them 
to  Donnie's  saddle.  If  the  horses  did  not  go  home  at  once, 
or  should  there  be  no  one  at  the  Circle  Cross  for  a  couple 
of  days,  she  knew  the  animals  could  graze  and  water  and 
would  not  suffer.  They  had  left  Tatters  in  the  stables 
with  water  and  food.  She  wished  now  that  she  had  taken 
the  dog  back  to  its  former  master.     It  would  miss  them. 

Heading  the  horses  toward  the  Hot  Springs  trail,  she 
slashed  Fox  across  the  flank  with  her  whip.  The  animal 
gave  a  snort  of  suprise  then  dashed  toward  home,  while 
Pet  stumbled  and  tugged  behind  him  down  the  narrow  trail. 
She  watched  them  disappear  around  the  curve;  but  later 
she  heard  the  tumbling  of  small  rocks  and  knew  her  mes- 
sage was  on  its  way  to  Glendon. 

Walking  to  the  edge  of  the  Box  she  looked  down  unflinch- 
ingly. There  was  plenty  time.  When  everything  was  dark 
and  quiet,  it  would  be  easy  to  take  the  sleeping  child  in  her 
arms;  then  neither  man  nor  law  could  take  him  from  her. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-THREE 

DOCTOR  Powell,  lured  by  Chappo's  description  of 
the  cave  on  Jackson  trail,  had  reached  the  place 
an  hour  after  Katherine  and  Donnie  had  started 
for  the  Box.  It  was  while  examining  the  designs  on  the 
various  bits  of  pottery  that  he  found  fragments  of  broken 
geodes,  and  eagerty  continued  his  search,  which  was  re- 
warded with  several  specimens  that  were  unbroken. 

Powell,  who  was  deeply  interested  in  geology,  knew  there 
were  few  places  where  the  curious  white  crystals  were 
found,  and  his  delight  was  augmented  when  he  discovered 
two  of  them  in  which  the  water  could  be  distinctly  heard ; 
miosture  which  had  fallen  on  hot  lava  that  had  hardened 
too  quickly  to  allow  evaporation. 

He  was  engaged  in  wrapping  these  rare  specimens  in 
his  handkerchief,  when  he  heard  his  horse  whinny,  and  as 
he  moved  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  noticed  Fox  and  Pet 
picking  their  way  down  the  steep  trail.  He  saw  the 
saddles  and  that  the  ponies  were  tied  together,  so  con- 
cluded the  horses  had  broken  away  and  were  homeward 
bound,  leaving  Katherine  and  Donnie  afoot  higher  up  on 
the  trail. 

Powell  waited  until  the  ponies  stood  beside  his  horse. 
Then  he  moved  quietly  and  secured  them  with  his  tie-rope, 
and  mounted  his  horse  to  lead  the  strays  up  the  trail.  He 
had  no  thought  of  any  danger  to  Katherine  or  Donnie, 
until  a  turn  in  the  trail  revealed  the  top  of  the  climb  and 
a  woman  standing  perilously  near  the  edge  of  the  cliff. 
He  dared  not  call  out,  for  fear  of  startling  her  and  preci- 
pating  a  tragedy;  but  he  dropped  the  rope  of  the  two 
horses  and  urged  his  own  forward. 

Beads  of  perspiration  stood  on  his  forehead  and  his 

211 


212  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

teeth  bit  into  his  lower  lip.  The  horse  puffed  and  stumbled, 
for  the  big  Spanish  spurs  slashed  its  sides  without  mercy. 
Fox  and  Pet  scrambled  behind,  the  tie-ropes  dragging  on 
the   ground. 

He  reached  the  summit  and  closed  his  eyes,  fearing  he 
was  too  late.  With  a  throb  of  relief  he  saw  Katherine  still 
poised  at  the  edge  of  the  Box,  wThile  bits  of  decomposed 
earth  crumbled  unnoticed  beneath  her  feet.  He  realized 
her  danger.  Chappo  had  spoken  of  the  treacherous  shale 
overhanging  the  Box. 

So  engrossed  was  the  woman  that  she  did  not  hear  him 
slip  from  his  horse  and  hasten  noislessly  to  her  side;  but, 
when  his  hand  grasped  her  arm,  gently,  yet  firmly,  she 
turned  in  shrinking  fear  that  changed  to  piteous  ap- 
peal when  she  saw  it  wTas  Powell,  not  Glendon,  who  stood 
beside  her. 

The  man  read  the  tragedy  in  her  eyes.  Slowly  he  drew 
her  from  the  danger  point,  speaking  quietly  as  he  did  so. 

"This  place  is  not  safe,  Mrs.  Glendon.  A  moment's 
dizziness  might  seize  anyone."  The  earth  at  the  edge  was 
crumbling  as  he  spoke,  a  chunk  of  it  crashed  down  into 
the  canon  below,  and  Powell  drew  her  further  back.  ' '  That 
shale  is  rotten  and  liable  to  slide  without  an  instant's 
wTarning.  I  was  in  an  Indian  cave  when  I  saw  the  ponies 
had  gotten  away  from  you  and  Donnie. " 

She  knew  he  was  giving  her  a  chance  to  evade  explan- 
ations, but  theNwroman  had  reached  a  point  where  she 
scorned  further  subterfuge.  When  one  faces  Eternity  all 
else  shrivels  to  insignificance.  "I  was  not  dizzy,"  she 
replied  in  a  dull  monotone.  Then  turning  on  him  passion- 
ately, she  cried,  "Why  did  you  come?  Do  you  know 
Donnie  is  going  away  from  me?  In  three  days  more  my 
boy  will  be  taken  out  of  my  life  and  given  to  strangers 
who  care  nothing  for  him?  Why  should  we  go  on  strug- 
gling?    I  am  tired  of  it  all!" 

In  a  flash  he  understood  her  purpose,  and  knew  the 
horses  had  not  escaped  accidentally. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  213 

"And  you  thought  that  you  could  keep  him  with  you 
— down  there?"  Powell  asked  in  a  voice  unsteady  with 
emotion. 

She  looked  at  him  defiantly.  "Yes,  you  may  call  it  a 
crime ;  but  I  am  willing  to  bear  the  punishment  if  there  is 
another  world — if  there  is  another  world!  It  is  a  worse 
crime  to  take  a  child  from  its  mother  and  give  it  to  the 
father — no  matter  how  unworthy  he  may  be!  I  have 
borne  everything  for  the  boy's  sake;  I  could  go  on — bear- 
ing everything  the  rest  of  my  life — if  I  could  only  keep 
my  boy ! ' ' 

Her  voice  dropped.  Powell  saw  that  her  hands  and 
limbs  were  shaken  with  tremors.  "I  love  him  enough  to 
give  him  up  with  a  smile,  if  I  could  know  that  it  was  for 
his  good.  My  only  happiness  lies  in  knowing  I  have 
done  the  best  I  could  for  him." 

He  silently  waited  the  reaction  that  must  come.  Her 
hands  covered  her  face;  then  a  terrible  sob  shook  her 
body.  It  was  not  the  sharp  cry  of  remorse;  but  the 
terrible  soul-rendiag  cry  of  a  heart  that  is  near  to  breaking, 
and  the  man  beside  her  ached  to  take  her  in  his  arms  and 
comfort  her  as  he  would  a  child. 

"Tell  me  about  it,"  he  said  at  last,  and  she  raised  her 
tear-stained  face. 

Without  reservation,  she  told  the  story  of  the  long, 
bitter  struggle  to  reform  her  husband;  the  hope  that  the 
child  would  bring  compensation  and  finally  the  letter  and 
her  husband's  decision  which  had  driven  her  to  despera- 
tion. 

"Yet,  when  it  came  to  the  point,  you  never  would  have 
been  cowardly  enough  to  take  your  life  and  Donnie's," 
he  asserted. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  faltered.  "A  swimmer  who 
struggles  against  the  tide  reaches  a  moment  when  further 
efforts  are  impossible.  I  have  struggled,  prayed  and 
fought  until  I  am  tired  of  it  all.  I  want  to  stop  thinking, 
stop  fearing  the  future — and  sleep.     It  is  sometimes  easier 


21 4  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

to  die  than  to  keep  on  living.  Life  is  too  hard,  too  bitter, 
too  hopeless!     You  can't  understand." 

"But  I  do  understand!"  replied  Powell  earnestly. 
"Sometimes  one  reaches  a  stone  wall  where  there  is  no 
way  around,  no  way  over  it,  yet,  if  we  have  the  courage  to 
hold  on,  the  wall  topples  when  we  least  expect  it  What 
seems  impossible  today  may  be  accomplished  tomorrow. 
I  am  up  against  the  hardest  wall  in  my  life,  but  I  shall 
not  give  up.  In  the  quest  of  the  Grail  there  must  be  no 
faltering.     We  all  see  the  vision  once  in  life. ' ' 

He  laid  his  hands  on  hers,  compelling  her  to  look  into  his 
eyes.  "I  have  heard  a  soldier  whose  bravery  was  beyond 
question,  say  that  the  impulse  to  seek  a  place  of  safety 
during  a  battle  is  almost  overpowering.  Many  men  have 
been  unable  to  resist  the  temptation;  and  the  pity  is  that 
often  one  deserts,  his  colours  just  when  victory  is  at  hand. 
You  are  brave  enough  to  face  the  bullets.  Don  't  you  know 
the  man  who  deserts,  influences  many  others  to  drop  their 
colours  too?  Carry  your  colours  bravely,  comrade,  that 
I  may  have  the  courage  to  go  on  with  my  fight — won't 
you?" 

She  turned  impulsively  and  laid  her  two  hands  in  his 
close  grasp  that  imparted  new  courage.  ' '  I  was  a  coward, ' ' 
she  said,  "but  I  promise  I'll  not  give  up  again!  You 
can 't  realize  how  much  you  have  helped  me !  I  will  prove 
my  gratitude  by  not  running  from  the  bullets. ' ' 

The  doctor  smiled  at  her.  "That's  right,"  he  said 
heartily;  "but  you  overrate  what  I  have  done.  You  would 
have  won  the  battle  by  yourself. ' ' 

He  turned  then,  to  see  Donnie  looking  at  them  from  sleep- 
heavy  eyes. 

"Hello,  Rip  Van  Winkle,"  called  the  doctor. 

With  a  cry  of  delight  the  child  leaped  up  and  running 
to  Powell,  threw  his  arms  about  the  man's  neck.  "Oh, 
you  did  come  after  all!"  he  cried  triumphantly.  Then 
Katherine  and  Powell  understood  how  the  child  missed  the 
man. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  215 

The  boy's  unrestrained  gladness  relieved  the  tension 
between  his  mother  and  the  doctor.    Finally  Powell  rose. 

"Do  yon  know,  I  forgot  that  Chappo  fixed  a  lunch  for 
me?    Let's  see  what  it  is,  Donnie.     I'm  getting  hungry." 

Katherine  watched  them  make  their  way  over  the  rough 
ground,  the  child's  hand  held  by  the  man.  The  mingled 
voices  happy  with  laughter,  floated  back  to  her  from  where 
the  ponies  were  tied.  There  might  be  an  occasional  gleam 
of  sunshine  in  life,  if  only  the  child  were  not  taken  from 
her,  she  thought  hopefully.  Then  she  saw  them  returning, 
carrying  various  articles  which  the  doctor  had  extricated 
from  his  big  saddle  bags,  and  now  deposited  on  the  ground 
at  her  feet. 

"Chappo  knows  I  am  a  confirmed  coffee-fiend,"  con- 
fessed Powell.  "You  gather  some  sticks,  Donnie,  and  we'll 
pretend  your  mother  is  a  captive  queen  whom  we  have 
rescued  from  the  cannibals.  I'm  Crusoe  and  you're 
Friday." 

"Friday  was  black,"  objected  Donnie. 

"Well,  that  was  an  island.  This  is  a  mountain,  so  you 
can  be  a  white  Friday  here,  you  see. ' ' 

When  the  fire  crackled  and  the  large  cup  which  Chappo 
had  provided  for  boiling  coffee,  sang  merrily,  the  remnants 
of  Katherine 's  lunch  were  added  to  what  the  Doctor  had, 
so  a  plentiful  meal  was  spread. 

"The  trail  is  rather  bad,"  suggested  Powell  as  they 
finished  the  impromptu  feast,  "so  we  had  better  start  before 
it  grows  late." 

He  tightened  the  cinches  of  the  three  saddles  and  adjusted 
the  bridles  while  Katherine  and  Donnie  picked  up  the  cups 
and  spoons.  She  was  replacing  a  few  articles  in  a  sack 
hanging  on  her  saddle  when  she  felt  the  rock  and  re- 
membered the  note  she  had  written  to  her  husband.  Un- 
tying the  sack,  she  tore  the  paper  into  fragments  that  were 
caught  by  the  light  evening  breeze  and  tossed  over  the  edge 
of  the  Box.  She  watched  them,  then  with  a  smile  turned 
to  Powell,   who  waited  to  lift  her  to  her  pony's  back. 


216  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Donnie,  already  on  his  pony,  followed  his  mother  as  Fox 
picked  his  way  down  the  trail  behind  Powell 's  horse. 

Six  miles  away  the  Rim  Rock  rose  over  two  thousand 
feet  or  more,  the  massive,  jagged  sides  reflecting  a  riotous 
confusion  of  colours  from  the  setting  sun,  until  its  vivid 
beauty  merged  into  a  soft  blue-grey,  like  the  plumage  on 
the  breast  of  a  wild  dove. 

Sometimes  the  boy  and  Powell  talked  together  as  they 
rode  down  the  trail,  or  the  mother  joined  in  the  conversa- 
tion, but  all  the  time  she  was  conscious  of  a  new  strength, 
a  sense  of  comradeship  that  she  had  never  before  known  in 
her  entire  life.  Her  heart  was  lighter  than  it  had  been 
for  many  years  when  she,  Powell  and  Donnie  reached  the 
gate  of  the  Circle  Cross.  To  her  surprise,  Glendon  slouched 
on  the  porch. 

It  was  only  Thursday  and  Glendon  had  said  he  would 
be  absent  until  Sunday  night.  She  wondered  what  it 
meant. 

Her  eyes  turned  to  the  child  and  fear  gripped  her 
heart  until  it  seemed  as  if  she  were  suffocating.  But 
Powell's  words  came  back  to  her,  "Carry  your  colours 
bravely,  comrade" — She  determined  not  to  meet  trouble 
prematurely.  After  all,  there  probably  was  a  very  natural 
explanation  of  the  sudden  return.  Juan  was  coming  up 
from  the  barn,  carrying  a  pail  of  fresh  milk.  It  was  the 
usual  routine  of  the  ranch.     She  put  her  fears  aside. 

Powell  opening  the  gate  for  Katherine  and  Donnie  to 
ride  through,  raised  his  hat  courteously  and  spoke  to  Glen- 
don. It  was  the  best  way  to  aid  Glendon 's  wife.  The 
other  man  looked  at  him  between  half -closed  eyes  that  were 
a  studied  insult,  and  made  no  reply.  Neither  did  he 
make  any  effort  to  assist  his  wife. 

The  doctor  helped  her  from  her  horse,  then  lifted 
Donnie  to  the  ground,  faying  no  heed  to  Glendon 's  attitude. 
With  a  few  words  to  the  woman  and  boy,  Powell  rode 
through  the  gate  toward  Hot  Springs.  His  blood  boiled, 
and  it  required  all  his  will-power  to  avoid  turning  back 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  217 

and  mauling  Glendon  as  he  deserved;  but,  he  realized  it 
would  not  help  the  woman. 

Juan,  having  disposed  of  the  milk-pail,  hastened  to  lead 
the  ponies  to  the  stable.  Knowing  that  Glendon  was  in 
one  of  his  most  surly  moods,  Katherine  moved  slowly  up  the 
steps  of  the  porch,  trying  to  choke  back  her  terrible  dread. 
"Carry  your  colours,"  she  heard. 

Something  of  the  new-born  hope  and  peace  shone  in  her 
eyes  as  she  faced  her  husband  silently.  He  knew  that  she 
stood  on  heights  he  could  not  attain,  and  from  which  he  was 
powerless  to  drag  her  to  his  own  level.  Enraged,  he  leaned 
closer.  His  unshaven  face,  bloodshot  eyes,  soiled  shirt  and 
hot  breath  redolent  of  liquor,  struck  her  senses  like  a 
physical  blow!  With  an  effort  she  conquered  the  sicken- 
ing repugnance,  recalling  her  promise  to  Powell  to  carry 
her  colours  bravely.  She  smiled  at  her  husband  and  was 
passing  into  the  house,  when  he  caught  her  arm  in  a  brutal 
clutch,  jerking  her  back  so  that  his  face  was  close  to  her 
own. 

"Took  you  by  surprise,  coming  back  today,  didn't  I?" 
he  said  meaningly.  The  child  stood  with  pale  fafce  and 
frightened  eyes.  "Thought  I  was  out  of  the  way,  and 
you  sneaked  off  to  meet  your  affinity,  using  your  child  as 
a  cloak!  You  can't  fool  me.  If  you  and  that  dude  think 
you  are  pulling  the  wool  over  my  eyes,  you'll  find  your- 
selves mistaken.  You  can  tell  him  that,  next  time  you  and 
he  arrange  to  meet  each  other.  I  thought  you'd  fall  for 
the  trap  when  I  fixed  it  up  yesterday  morning. ' ' 

Her  face  flushed  deep  red.  She  had  borne  every  igno- 
miny possible;  but  this  accusation  hurt  like  corroding 
acid.  Her  impulse  to  cry  out  in  self-defense  faded  as  she 
looked  steadily  into  his  wavering  eyes.  Like  a  whisper 
came  the  memory  of  Powell's  words,  "Carry  your  colours 
bravely."  Quietly  she  answered,  "Down  in  your  heart, 
Jim,  you  don't  believe  what  you  say.  Doctor  Powell 
saved  me  and  Donnie  from  death  today.  If  he  had  not 
been  riding  on  the  Jackson  trail  and  found  us  when  he 


218  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

did,  the  boy  and  I  would  both  have  been  lying  at  the  bottom 
of  the  Box  tonight.'* 

"What  were  you  doing  up  there ?"  he  snarled,  glaring 
at  her.  "More  of  your  melodramatic  drivel,  as  usual? 
Powell  for  an  audience ! ' ' 

"I  wonder  if  it  would  make  any  difference  to  you  if 
you  knew  the  truth V  she  said  brokenly.  "I  am  worn 
out  struggling.     The  Box  seemed  the  only  way." 

Dumbly,  as  though  she  had  reached  the  limit  of  physical 
as  well  as  mental  endurance,  she  turned  from  him  and 
entered  the  place  she  called  home. 

For  a  second  Glendon  hesitated;  then  with  an  oath  he 
called  after  her:  "You  can't  bluff  me  with  threats  of 
suicide.  You  haven't  the  nerve.  I've  said  my  last  word 
about  sending  the  boy  to  Father.  I'm  going  on  Monday, 
whether  he's  ready  or  not.     I'll  break  your  pride!" 

Donnie's  startled  eyes  widened  and  his  face  grew  paler 
as  he  realized  that  he  was  to  be  parted  from  his  mother. 
"With  a  stifled  sob  the  child  stumbled  blindly  up  the  steps, 
past  his  father  and  threw  himself  into  his  mother's  arms. 

"Majfcnee!     Marmee!     Don't  let  me  go!" 

Katherine  clasped  the  boy  tightly,  her  eyes  were  dry, 
but  it  seemed  as  if  her  aching  heart  would  burst  with 
agony,  knowing  that  she  was  helpless. 

"Oh,  God,  give  me  the  courage  to  live!"  was  her  un- 
uttered  prayer. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FOUR 

LIMBER  and  Powell  were  riding  together  in  a 
deep  canon  of  the  Galiuros.  Neither  had  spoken 
for  some  time,  for  often  they  rode  together  with- 
out exchanging  a  word.  Limber,  who  was  slightly  in 
advance  of  the  doctor,  stopped  Peanut  and  leaned  forward 
in  his  saddle.  Then  his  quick  glance  brought  Powell 
closer. 

From  the  thick  undergrowth  ahead  of  them  a  tiny  spiral 
of  smoke  rose  faintly.  Cautiously  they  urged  their  ponies ; 
then  through  the  brush,  silently  watched  a  man  carrying 
a  hot  branding  iron  in  his  hand.  A  cow  was  roped  and 
lying  on  the  ground.  The  iron  burned  into  the  hide,  the 
smell  of  singed  hair,  the  bellows  of  pain  told  the  story. 
The  man's  back  had  been  toward  them,  but  both  Powell 
and  Limber  had  recognized  the  figure  and  walk. 

They  waited.  The  man  loosed  the  rope  that  bound  the 
cow.  It  caught  in  a  snarl,  the  cow  struggled.  With  an 
oath,  he  jerked  the  rope,  at  the  same  time  giving  the  ani- 
mal a  vicious  kick  on  the  head. 

It  staggered  to  its  feet  and  stood  dazed  for  a  second, 
then  darted  into  the  brush ;  but  not  before  Limber  and 
Powell  had  seen  the  fresh  brand.  Limber  leaned  close  to 
the  doctor  and  whispered,  ''That's  a  PL  cow  and  it's  been 
changed  to  a  BD." 

The  eyes  of  the  two  men  met  in  understanding.  Again 
they  peered  through  the  brush  to  see  the  other  man  rubbing 
the  hot  iron  in  the  dirt  to  cool  it.  He  turned  to  his  horse, 
the  iron  in  his  hand. 

An  inspiration  seized  Powell. 

219 


220  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Quick!     Let  him  know  we  saw  him!" 

Their  ponies  jumped  forward  under  the  spurs,  but  Glen- 
don,  busy  tying  the  iron  to  his  saddle,  did  not  notice  their 
presence  until  Peanut's  hoof  crackled  on  a  loose  branch. 
Glendon  leaped  to  his  horse,  whirled  it  around  and  faced 
them  with  his  hand  resting  on  his  pistol  holster.  It 
relaxed  as  he  recognized  them. 

"Oh,  hello!"  he  said  affably,  plainly  speculating  as  to 
how  long  they  had  been  watching  him. 

Limber  looked  at  him  curiously.  "Been  brandin'?"  he 
spoke  in  a  casual  voice. 

"No:"  answered  Glendon.  "I  was  just  looking  over 
the  range.     Glad  we  happened  to  meet." 

Without  comment,  the  cowpuncher  rode  to  the  still 
smouldering  embers,  slipped  from  his  saddle,  then  kicked 
at  the  bits  of  charred  and  glowing  wood.  Before  Glendon 
realized  it,  Limber  reached  out  suddenly  and  touched  the 
still  hot  iron  fastened  to  Glendon 's  saddle. 

Glendon  glared  at  him  as  the  cowboy  said  very  quietly, 
"Looks  as  if  your  Greaser  friend  has  come  back  from 
Mexico,  Glendon.  I  jest  seen  another  of  them  BD  bunch 
you  bought  from  him.  It's  got  a  fresh  brand  on  it,  too. 
You  must  of  just  bought  it  today." 

Glendon 's  pony  twisted  toward  Limber,  Glendon 's  hand 
moved  almost  imperceptibly,  but  dropped  quickly  as 
Limber  called,  "Don't  tech  your  gun,  you  idjit!" 

The  eyes  of  Glendon  shifted  cat-like  from  Limber  to 
Powell,  then  his  hands  rested  lightly  on  the  horn  of  his 
saddle  and  he  leaned  forward  carelessly,  saying,  "Don't 
you  think  you  two  have  carried  your  joke  about  far 
enough  ? ' ' 

"  Joke !"  vociferated  the  angry  cowpuncher  with  an  oath, 
1 1  It  means  the  Pen  for  you — if  you  call  that  a  joke. ' ' 

Glendon 's  eyes  narrowed  as  they  rested  on  Powell,  and 
an  expression  of  fury  distorted  his  face. 

"Oh,  I  see  your  little  game  now!"  he  snarled.  "Going 
to  try  to  railroad  me  to  the  Pen  so  Powell  can  make  love 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  221 

to  my  wife.  I'll  see  you  both  damned  before  you  play 
your  last  card.  I'll  show  both  of  you  up — and  Katherine, 
too!" 

Two  shots  rang  out  together.  The  ponies  reared  as 
bullets  pinged  past.  Powell,  unarmed,  looked  at  Limber, 
who  stood  with  smoking  pistol  in  his  tense  grip.  The 
remnant  of  Glendon's  six-shooter  was  lying  on  the  ground 
some  distance  from  his  horse — knocked  from  his  hand  by 
the  shot  from  Limber's  gun.  That  shot  had  saved  Powell's 
life. 

Not  one  of  the  men  spoke,  but  Powell  who  was  un- 
armed, leaped  from  his  horse.  All  the  rage  that  had  con- 
sumed him  for  months  seethed  over.  He  clutched  at  Glen- 
don,  dragged  him,  despite  his  struggles,  from  his  horse, 
and  then  face  to  face  they  met.  All  the  knowledge  of 
the  misery  inflicted  on  Katherine  by  this  man,  lent  addi- 
tional strength  to  Powell's  blows,  while  Glendon's  hatred 
responded  in  full.  It  was  caveman  against  caveman,  with 
bare  hands  for  weapons. 

The  fight  was  short  but  sharp.  Though  Glendon  was  a 
much  larger  man  than  Powell,  and  had  once  been  able  to 
hold  his  own  with  the  gloves  or  at  wrestling,  years  of  dissi- 
pation told  on  him  now.  A  crashing  blow  from  the  doctor 
stretched  him  on  the  ground  motionless  for  several  seconds ; 
then  his  eyes  opened  and  looked  into  the  grim  faces  of  the 
two  men  who  stood  watching  him. 

"Get  up,"  ordered  Powell. 

Glendon  dragged  himself  to  his  feet,  swayed  dizzily  and 
passed  his  hand  over  his  dazed  eyes;  slowly  he  moved  to 
a  fallen  tree  and  dropped  heavily  on  it. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do?"  he  asked  sullenly.  "Send 
me  up?     You  won't  get  her  that  way.     She'll  stick  to  me." 

Powell  stepped  to  Glendon's  side,  his  face  white  with 
fury,  his  hands  clenched  ominously.  "Keep  your  wife's 
name  off  your  dirty  tongue,"  he  commanded  tensely,  "or, 
by  God!  I'll  kill  you." 

Glendon  knew  it  was  no  idle  threat,  and  his  eyes  sought 


222  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

the  ground  until  he  was  roused  by  Powell  handing  him 
a  note  book  and  fountain  pen. 

"What's  this  for?"  he  demanded  with  an  oath. 

"Write  what  I  dictate,"  Powell  answered. 

Glendon 's  head  jerked  angrily,  "I  will  write  nothing, " 
he  retorted. 

"You  have  ten  minutes  to  do  as  I  say;"  Powell's  voice 
was  like  flint,  and  so  were  the  angry  eyes  that  regarded  the 
man  at  his  feet.  "Write.  'This  is  to  confess  that  John 
Burritt  and  Doctor  Powell  caught  me  changing  a  PL  cow 
to  a  BD  and  marking  it  with  the  Circle  Cross. 

Glendon  laughed  eontemptously.  "Do  you  think  I'm 
such  a  fool  as  to  sign  a  paper  that  will  send  me  to  the 
penitentiary  ? ' ' 

"It's  the  only  way  that  you  can  keep  from  going  there," 
was  Powell's  reply. 

"Suppose  I  sign  it?" 

"Then,  so  long  as  you  stop  your  crooked  work  and 
behave  decently,  no  one  will  know  of  this  episode  except 
myself  and  Limber.  In  case  you  try  to  coerce  your  wife 
in  any  way,  or  take  Donnie  from  her  as  you  plan,  this  paper 
will  be  used  by  us  to  help  her  keep  her  boy.  A  woman  has 
no  legal  right  to  her  child  in  Arizona,  but  neither  has  the 
father  if  he  is  a  convict.  So  it's  up  to  you.  I  give  you 
ten  minutes." 

The  doctor  seated  himself  on  a  boulder,  holding  his 
open  watch  in  his  hand,  while  Glendon  sat  staring  at  the 
ground  in  helpless  fury. 

"Time's  up,"  announced  Powell,  snapping  the  cover  of 
his  watch  and  placing  it  in  his  pocket.  "Well,  what  is 
your  answer?" 

"I'll  write  what  you  say,"  muttered  Glendon,  reaching 
out  for  the  pen  and  notebook. 

Powell  repeated  the  words  while  Glendon  with  shaking 
hand  signed  his  name  to  the  confession.  His  face  was 
white  with  rage  as  he  returned  the  book  to  Powell. 

1 '  Sign  as  a  witness,  please,  Limber ; ' '  and  the  cowpuncher 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  223 

signed  his  name,  "John  C.  Burritt,"  beneath  whieh  was 
written,  "Cuthbert  Powell,"  and  the  date.  Then  the  doc- 
tor pocketed  the  pen  and  book. 

"You  might  as  well  know,"  commented  Powell,  "that 
this  paper  will  be  forwarded  immediately  to  my  attorneys 
in  the  East,  with  instructions  how  to  act  in  event  of  any 
stray  bullet  or  other  mysterious  accident  happening  to 
Limber  or  me.  Our  safety  is  your  only  protection.  Now, 
I  think  we  understand  each  other  perfectly. ' ' 

Glendon  made  no  answer.  The  three  men  mounted  their 
ponies,  rode  through  the  canon,  climbed  the  backbone  of 
the  mountain  and  worked  down  the  narrow  trail  that 
merged  into  the  road  leading  to  the  Hot  Springs.  None 
of  them  spoke.     Each  was  busy  with  his  own  thoughts. 

As  they  approached  the  Hot  Springs  ranch,  Powell 
looked  critically  at  Glendon 's  bruised  eye  and  swollen 
hands.  It  was  a  purely  professional  survey,  and  Glendon 
recognized  it  as  such  when  the  doctor  spoke. 

"Come  in,"  was  the  curt  command.  "You  can't  let 
your  wife  see  you  that  way,  unless  you  want  me  to  tell  her 
the  whole  truth." 

Glendon  hesitated,  then  reined  his  pony  at  the  gate  and 
dismounted  painfully. 

Though  Powell's  hands  were  deft  and  light,  Glen- 
don knew  they  were  not  ministering  lovingly,  while  they 
bandaged  the  bruises  they  had  inflicted.  It  goaded  him  to 
submit;  but  he  had  no  alternative.  Limber  sat  watching 
the  two  men.  The  room  was  silent  save  for  the  doctor's 
movements. 

"That  will  do,"  he  said  at  last,  and  Glendon  rose  from 
the  chair,  his  hands  bandaged  and  one  eye  covered  with  a 
patch.  "Limber,  you  may  ride  down  with  him,  and  tell 
Mrs.  Glendon  that  her  husband  met  with  an  accident  and 
we  were  lucky  enough  to  be  near;  but  there  is  nothing  to 
cause  her  any  anxiety  so  long  as  her  husband  is  careful," 
he  regarded  Glendon  steadily  as  he  uttered  these  words. 

Then  without  further  addressing  his  patient,  the  doctor 


224  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

turned  into  his  bedroom,  carrying  the  bandages  with  him, 
and  Glendon,  with  the  suppressed  fury  of  a  volcano,  fol- 
lowed the  cowboy  to  the  gate. 

From  a  window,  Powell  watched  them  ride  side  by  side 
down  the  road  toward  the  Circle  Cross.  With  grim  satis- 
faction he  recalled  the  fight  in  the  canon.  He  knew  that 
Limber  would  deliver  his  message  to  Glendon 's  wife,  and 
that  Glendon  would  not  contradict  it. 

When  Limber  returned,  he  reported  to  the  doctor  that 
Mrs.  Glendon  would  care  for  the  patient,  and  she  sent  her 
thanks  to  Doctor  Powell.  Limber's  eyes  had  a  lurking 
twinkle  that  was  reflected  in  Powell's. 

"It's  plumb  lucky  you  thought  about  fixin'  things  so's 
he  can't  take  Donnie  away  from  her,"  the  cowpuncher 
spoke  in  admiration.     "  I  'd  a  never  thought  of  it. ' ' 

For  the  first  time  the  doctor  told  Limber  of  the  despera- 
tion of  the  mother,  and  the  narrow  averting  of  a  terrible 
tragedy  in  the  Box.  Limber 's  face  was  white  and  his  grey 
eyes  glazed. 

"Doc,  do  you  mean  ter  tell  me  that  she  ain't  got  no  right 
to  Donnie?  An'  Glen  kin  take  him  away  anytime  he  wants 
to?" 

"That  is  the  way  the  law  stands  now,  Limber.  I  looked 
up  the  matter  through  a  lawyer  in  Tucson  after  I  came 
to  live  at  the  Springs  and  saw  the  terrible  struggle  she  was 
making.  She  does  not  believe  in  divorce,  but  even  if  she 
did,  the  law  is  on  his  side ;  so  long  as  he  keeps  from  being 
classed  as  a  criminal.  If  she  leaves  Glendon,  he  can  keep 
the  child." 

"If  I'd  knowed  that,"  Limber  spoke  very  quietly,  "I 
wouldn't  have  been  so  careful  aimin'  at  that  pistol  in  his 
hand,  when  he  pulled  his  gun  on  you  and  you  wasn't 
armed. ' ' 

"Well,  it  worked  out  still  better,"  responded  Powell, 
"We've  got  him  just  where  we  want  him  now,  thank  God !" 

Limber  stared  at  the  cigarette  rings  above  his  head,  and 
sat  thinking  for  quite  a  while,  before  he  said,  "Some  day 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  225 

something  goin'  to  bust  them  laws.  It  takes  a  heap  to 
wake  people  up,  but  when  they  get  woke  up  they'll  he  like 
the  ol'  white  horse  and  the  China  pump  at  the  Diamond  II. 

"You  see,  we  uster  work  him  at  the  big  pond,  and  the 
water  was  pumped  from  the  well  with  an'  ol'  fashioned 
pump  called  a  China  pump.  That  was  before  the  Boss  got 
gasoline  engines.  You  may  believe  me,  or  not,  Doc,  but  it 
was  that  ol'  white  horse  that  got  the  first  engine  on  the 
ranch.  For  live  years  oP  Whitey  was  hitched  up  to  the 
cross-bar  and  a  blinder  put  across  his  eyes,  then  he  was 
started,  an'  once  he  started,  he  jest  kept  on  goin'  round  and 
round  without  nobody  watching  him  and  he  never  knowed 
the  difference. 

"But  one  day  he  stopped  short,  and  of  course,  thar 
warn't  no  water  pumpin',  the  troughs  was  dry  and  the 
cattle  bawlin'  their  heads  off.  Me  and  the  Boss  rid  near, 
and  went  over  to  see  what  was  makin'  the  trouble.  The 
cows  was  climbin'  over  each  other's  backs  trying  to  get 
a  drink.  Well,  we  found  ol'  Whitey 's  blind  had  slid  down 
so  he  could  see  outen  one  eye. 

"I  fixed  it  back  and  said,  'Git-tap,'  expectin'  he  would 
go  long  jest  as  he  always  done,  but  Whitey  never  moved 
a  step. 

"I  touched  him  with  my  quirt,  and  then  that  ol'  horse 
that  was  old  enough  to  die  three  times  over  and  had  never 
done  a  mean  thing  in  his  life,  turned  loose  and  kicked  the 
stuffin'  outen  the  woodwork  of  that  pump  as  far  as  he  could 
reach. ' ' 

Limber  paused  in  retrospection,  and  Powell  said,  "What 
happened  next  ? ' ' 

"Northin'  happened.  That  was  the  trouble.  They 
never  could  use  him  again  on  the  pump ;  and  every  other 
horse  we  tried  had  to  have  a  man  stay  with  it,  because 
Whitey  was  the  only  one  that  had  worked  without  bein' 
watched,  you  see.  So  the  Boss  put  in  the  gasoline  engine 
down  thar.  When  Whitey  found  he  was  bein'  fooled  into 
jest  goin'  around  and  around  and  never  gettin'  nowhar, 


226  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

he  up  and  busted  things  good  and  plenty.  An'  that's  the 
way  with  people  when  the  blind  slips  off.  Someday,  some 
one's  blind  is  goin'  to  slip  down  and  then  thar 11  be  Hell 
to  pay  with  that  law  in  Arizona ! ' ' 

"If  the  men  who  frame  the  laws  could  see  each  individual 
affected  unjustly  by  that  law,  standing  before  them  and 
know  how  it  could  be  twisted  to  injure  a  life,  they  would  be 
more  careful  in  enacting  a  law.  Do  you  think  for  a  min- 
ute, Limber,  that  any  man,  or  body  of  men,  who  passed  the 
law  giving  a  father  sole  right  to  his  children,  would  en- 
dorse that  law  today — if  they  knew  what  you  and  I  know 
about  Glendon  and  his  wife  ? ' ' 

"No!  You  bet  thar  isn't  a  decent  man  in  Arizona  that 
would  stand  for  it,"  Limber  answered  emphatically,  "But 
it's  thar,  and  we  can't  help  it  now.  Only  I  wisht  I  knowed 
all  this  yesterday,  that's  all.  Arizona's  got  some  good 
laws.  One  of  'em  is  that  the  feller  what  draws  on  an  un- 
armed man,  ain't  got  no  right  to  live  hisself." 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-FIVE 

SUNDAY  morning  Katherine  woke  in  dread.  Tomor- 
row, Donnie  would  leave  her.  The  child  now  real- 
ized the  truth  and  his  grief  had  torn  her  heart.  His 
eyes  followed  her  in  mute  appeal. 

Breakfast  was  eaten  in  silence.  Afterward  Glendon 
mounted  his  horse  and  rode  from  the  ranch  alone.  He 
spoke  not  a  word  to  Juan  or  Katherine,  and  Donnie  watch- 
ing furtively,  kept  out  of  his  father's  sight  as  much  as 
possible. 

Through  a  window  Katherine  watched  her  husband  ride 
away.  A  look  of  determination  shone  in  her  eyes  when  she 
turned  back  to  the  work  of  clearing  the  dining-table.  The 
look  grew,  while  she  washed  the  dishes  and  straightened 
the  house.  Juan  was  chopping  wood  and  Donnie  sat 
quietly  on  the  steps  of  the  front  porch,  his  troubled  eyes 
clouded  with  tears  that  he  Would  not  let  his  mother  see. 

"Juan,"  called  Katherine  suddenly  from  the  kitchen 
window. 

The  Mexican  let  the  ax  fall  from  his  hand  and  trotted  to 
her,  "Si,  Seriora,"  he  smiled. 

"I'm  going  to  write  a  letter.  Can  I  trust  you  with 
it?" 

She  did  not  need  words  to  assure  her  of  his  faithfulness 
but  he  answered,  as  he  made  the  Sign  of  the  Cross,  "On  my 
heart  I  swear  it,  Seiiora!" 

He  went  back  to  his  wood-chopping,  while  Katherine 
seated  herself  at  the  dining-table  and  began  writing.  It 
was  a  desperate  hope.  Only  the  thought  of  her  boy  could 
have  forced  her  to  such  a  step. 

When  Katherine  Courtney  had  been  left  an  orphan  at  the 

227 


228  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

age  of  ten,  the  only  legacy  had  been  unblemished  reputa- 
tions of  her  parents.  An  aunt  of  her  mother's  had  come 
forward  with  an  offer  to  educate  the  girl  until  she  could 
support  herself.  It  was  distinctly  stated  that  no  further 
benefits  were  to  be  expected,  and  this  was  done  only  to 
prevent  the  possibility  of  even  a  remote  family  connection 
becoming  a  public  charity  charge,  as  was  possible. 

The  sum  allowed  yearly  did  not  tend  to  affluence  or  ex- 
travagance, and  Katherine  had  felt  the  obligation  from  the 
very  first  day,  she  and  "Aunt  Jane  Grimes"  had  an  inter- 
view. The  old  lady's  grim,  aggressive  manner  had  re- 
pressed the  lonely  child's  inclination  to  fling  herself  upon 
the  one  human  being  who  took  any  interest  in  her.  Aunt 
Jane  was  wealthy,  an  old  maid — and  proud  of  it — energe- 
tic, economical  to  the  verge  of  penuriousness,  she  recognized 
three  great  factors  in  the  universe — her  church,  her  coun- 
try's flag  and  Prohibition. 

The  one  meeting  ended  all  communication  between  the 
child  and  old  lady,  until  Katherine  was  graduated  with 
the  highest  honours,  and  wrote  Aunt  Jane  that  she  was 
now  fitted  to  make  her  own  way  in  the  world  as  a  teacher, 
and  would  soon  begin  paying  back  the  heavy  obligation  of 
the  years  in  school. 

To  her  surprise,  Aunt  Jane  invited  her  to  come  for  a 
visit  to  the  old-fashioned  homestead  in  Maine.  "I'd  like 
to  see  what  sort  of  a  person  I  am  responsible  for,"  the  old 
lady  wrote.  "Your  reports  from  school  regarding  marks 
and  deportment  are  satisfactory;  but  you  can't  wear  these 
placarded  on  your  breast  for  the  rest  of  your  life.  So  I  'd 
like  to  have  a  look  at  you." 

The  inspection  proved  sufficient  for  the  old  lady  to  un- 
bend and  become  almost  human.  Katherine 's  gratitude 
and  her  sincere  desire  to  avoid  being  a  burden,  won  Aunt 
Jane's  silent  approbation.  After  two  weeks,  when  Kath- 
erine spoke  again  of  plans  to  start  earning  her  own  living, 
the  old  lady  had  turned  on  her  fiercely. 

"Do  you  call  that  gratitude?"  she  demanded  glaring 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  229 

through  her  steel -rimmed  glasses.  "Leaving  me  alone  in 
this  big  house  with  only  Ann,  and  she 's  a  fool ! ' ' 

Ann  was  the  one  maid  employed,  she  refused  to  share  her 
responsibilities  with  any  other  servant.  Ann  was  a  family 
heirloom,  but  despite  her  age  she  clung  tenaciously  to  life. 
In  fact,  it  had  become  a  grim  determination  on  the  part 
of  Ann,  and  likewise  on  the  part  of  Aunt  Jane,  not  to  die 
first. 

"Ann's  just  itching  to  see  me  buried, "  averred  Aunt 
Jane,  "and  every  morning  when  I  go  to  breakfast  she 
watches  to  see  whether  I  eat  all  the  boiled  egg,  or  two 
full  pieces  of  toast.  I  'm  tired  of  being  shut  up  alone  with 
her  all  winter." 

So  Katherine  remained,  and  for  a  wonder,  Ann,  too,  ap- 
proved. 

"Miss  Grimes  is  just  waitin'  for  me  to  die,"  Ann 
grumbled,  "but  her  Paw's  will  says  I'm  to  have  a  home 
here  as  long  as  I  live.  And  I'll  be  here  long  after  I  hear 
'em  singing  over  her  coffin.  I'm  glad  you're  going  to  stay 
here.  The  winters  are  terrible  when  we're  snowed  in  so 
long,  just  her  and  me,  and  she's  awful  old  and  crotchetty." 

Companion,  housekeeper,  peacemaker  between  the  two 
old  women ;  nurse  to  each  in  turn  ;  secretary  for  Aunt  Jane's 
large  business  correspondence  and  charities,  Katherine  paid 
her  debt  cheerfully  for  three  years,  and  nothing  broke  the 
monotony  of  her  life. 

During  the  winter  months  the  seaside  village  hibernated, 
but  in  the  summer  it  woke  as  a  resort  for  wealthy  society 
people  who  wished  to  avoid  what  they  termed  "the  rabble." 
It  was  only  for  a  short  period;  and  during  that  time,  Aunt 
Jane  shut  her  front  blinds  tightly,  and  with  Katherine  and 
various  old-fashioned  trunks  containing  her  feather  bed 
and  own  linen,  hied  to  a  still  more  remote  farm  inland ; 
only  returning  when  the  gay,  social  whirl  was  a  thing  of 
the  past. 

But,  the  third  summer,  Aunt  Jane  succumbed  to  a  touch 
of  "out,  and  had  not  the  courage  to  go  away  from  the  old 


230  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

doctor  who  had  attended  her  family  for  two  generations. 
He  had  presided  at  the  advent  of  Aunt  Jane  into  this 
world  of  troubles.  "I  don't  mind  his  seeing  my  bare  foot 
and  ankle,"  she  announced,  "but  I'm  not  going  around 
showing  it  to  any  strange  man  at  my  age,  even  if  he  is  a 
doctor." 

So  the  trunks  and  feather  mattress  were  not  disturbed, 
the  green  blinds  were  not  fastened,  and  the  wide  porch 
become  a  place  of  habitation  after  Katherine  had  installed 
chairs,  a  couch,  books,  and  at  last  a  tiny  table  which  was 
used  in  the  afternoons  for  a  cup  of  tea  out  of  the  old- 
fashioned  blue  and  white  china — the  pride  of  Aunt  Jane's 
heart.  Ann's  austere  face  relaxed,  and  on  one  memorable 
occasion,  Katherine  found  the  erstwhile  foes,  laughing  to- 
gether over  long-forgotten  jokes. 

Then,  the  unexpected  happened.  "While  in  a  store,  a 
former  classmate  recognized  Katherine,  and  insisted  on 
calling.  Aunt  Jane  succumbed  to  the  wiles  of  the  new- 
comer, whose  sympathy  at  Katherine 's  isolation  resulted 
in  various  invitations  to  a  "bite  of  lunch  with  just  me, 
alone."  Thus  it  was  that  Jim  Glendon  saw  her  one  day, 
obtained  an  introduction  and  lost  no  time  in  his  determina- 
tion to  marry  her. 

Aunt  Jane,  when  the  young  man  called,  listened  grimly 
to  his  family  social  assets  and  financial  standing,  then  she 
looked  him  up  and  down  appraisingly,  and  announced 
calmly,  "I  don't  like  you.     There's  your  hat." 

Glendon  retreated  in  confusion  to  report  to  Katherine 
and  her  chum.  Between  his  insistence  and  the  urging  of 
the  girl  friend,  the  affair  terminated  in  a  hasty  marriage. 
When  Katherine  broke  the  news  to  her  aunt,  she  was  in- 
formed that  Katherine  Courtney  was  dead.  "I've  never 
been  acquainted  with  any  one  named  Katherine  Glendon, 
and  I  don't  care  to  meet  such  a  person,"  was  Aunt  Jane's 
ultimatum. 

Each  month,  for  several  years,  Katherine  had  written  her 
aunt,  but  none  of  the  letters  had  been  answered.     Then 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  231 

she  wrote  to  Ann,  and  received  the  letter  endorsed,  DEAD  ! 
The  writing  was  that  of  Aunt  Jane,  and  Katherine  had  shed 
bitter  tears;  for  she  now  understood  that  these  two  old 
women  had  given  her  their  affection,  and  shown  it  in  the 
only  way  they  knew  how. 

Today  she  wrote  again  to  Aunt  Jane.  The  letter  told 
without  reserve  or  palliation,  the  conditions  at  the  Circle 
Cross,  the  plan  of  Glendon  to  rob  her  of  Donnie,  and  that 
the  law  gave  men  such  rights.  She  reminded  Aunt  Jane  of 
their  last  interview,  "You  said  then,  'When  you  wish  the 
shelter  of  my  home  from  the  man  you  have  married,  you  will 
be  welcome — but  not  till  then ! '  I  beg  sanctuary  for  my 
boy  and  myself.  I  will  work  till  the  flesh  wears  from  my 
fingers,  if  you  will  try  to  help  me  someway  now.  I  cannot 
give  him  up.  If  you  ever  loved  any  one  in  your  entire 
life,  Aunt  Jane,  try  to  remember  it  now,  for  my  boy  is  the 
only  thing  that  makes  me  try  to  live. ' ' 

The  letter  was  splashed  with  tears.     It  was  her  last  hope. 

She  gave  it  to  Juan;  "Take  it  to  the  Hot  Springs  and 
ask  them  to  please  send  it  to  town  by  the  first  person  who 
goes  from  there."  Juan's  eyes  looked  into  hers,  "Si, 
Senora,  I  understand."  He  tucked  the  letter  into  his 
shirt,  mounted  his  waiting  pony  and  loped  down  the 
canon. 

He  did  understand,  and  what  he  told  Doctor  Powell  and 
Limber  caused  the  cowpuncher  to  saddle  Peanut,  take  the 
letter  and  ride  to  Willcox  at  once.  Juan  went  back  to  the 
Circle  Cross  and  reported,  "Leember,  he  was  ready  to  start 
to  Weelcox,  so  he  took  the  letter  with  heem,  Senora." 

Juan  knew  that  the  Priest  told  him  it  was  a  mortal  sin 
to  lie ;  but  he  did  not  count  this  any  lie — Limber  had  taken 
the  letter  to  Willcox. 

Katherine  wondered  at  herself,  planning  surreptitiously 
to  oppose  her  husband  for  the  first  time  in  the  years  of  their 
married  life ;  but,  when  her  eyes  went  to  the  boy,  she  felt 
she  had  done  right.  Aunt  Jane,  if  favourably  disposed, 
would  use  all  her  wits  to  circumvent  Glendon,  whom  she 


232  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

hated.  If  Glendon  knew  that  Aunt  Jane  was  read}'  to 
take  her  part  and  the  boy's,  he  probably  would  not  press 
the  matter  of  sending  Donnie  away.  Glendon 's  father  had 
refused  further  financial  aid,  or  to  even  communicate  with 
his  son,  and  Aunt  Jane  was  wealthy.  This  might  influ- 
ence Glendon. 

In  her  anxiety  to  get  the  letter  off,  Katherine  had 
omitted  mentioning  her  complete  isolation  from  all  mail 
facilities.     Even,  now  she  forgot  it. 

Night  fell.  Two  hours  after  dark  Glendon  reached  home. 
The  horse  from  which  he  dismounted  was  worn  and  weary; 
the  hair  was  stiff  with  dried  sweat  and  lather,  its  flanks 
drawn. 

Without  a  word,  Glendon  ate  the  belated  supper.  Don- 
nie watched  him  with  frightened  eyes.  Juan  hovered  in 
the  kitchen  on  various  excuses,  until  Glendon  went  to  bed. 

Monday  morning  broke.  Breakfast  was  a  silent  meal. 
Katherine 's  face  was  pallid,  deep  circles  of  black  lay  under 
her  eyes,  her  lips  quivered.  The  morning  passed.  Glen- 
don loafed  about  the  ranch  all  day,  coming  into  the  house 
at  frequent  intervals.  Each  time  he  did  so,  his  wife  started 
nervously,  and  Donnie 's  breath  came  more  quickly.  Glen- 
don scrutinized  them  with  a  malignant  smile.  He  knew 
they  were  both  suffering  with  dread,  but  was  determined 
he  would  not  relieve  their  fears.  He  gloated  at  their  men- 
tal torture. 

When  a  boy,  Glendon  had  revelled  in  tearing  the  wings 
from  butterflies,  so  that  their  delicate  flight  in  the  sunshine 
must  end  in  creeping  mutilated  upon  the  ground.  Though 
his  wife  was  not  responsible  for  his  thwarted  plans,  still 
he  gloried  in  his  power  to  torture  her  for  his  humiliation 
by  Powell  and  Limber. 

Monday  passed,  and  Tuesday  followed.  She  dared  not 
hope,  for  she  did  not  know  what  hour  Glendon  might  decide 
to  start.  She  feared  to  ask  any  question  that  might  pre- 
cipitate the  crisis  she  dreaded.  She  felt  like  a  prisoner  con- 
demned to  death  who  is  kept  in  ignorance  of  the  day  or 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  233 

hour  of  his  execution,  and  each  passing  moment,  dies  a  new 
death. 

Glendon  studied  the  dumb  agony  in  her  face.  It  gave  a 
new  zest  to  his  life.  He  knew  that  neither  Powell  nor 
Limber  would  tell  her  of  the  paper  he  had  signed,  so  long 
as  Donnie  was  not  sent  away ;  but,  neither  Powell  nor  Lim- 
ber had  thought  they  were  giving  him  a  weapon  to  use 
upon  her — the  torture  of  uncertainty  that  drives  to  mad- 
ness. 

So  the  days  passed  into  weeks,  but  not  once  did  Glendon 
allow  her  a  glimmer  of  hope.  All  the  while  she  waited  for 
an  answer  to  the  letter  she  had  written  Aunt  Jane.  But, 
at  last  she  gave  that  up  in  despair. 

For  three  months  the  situation  remained  unchanged. 
Katherine  grew  haggard,  her  movements  listless,  and  Don- 
nie still  watched  his  father's  goings  and  comings  with 
frightened  eyes  and  beating  heart. 

The  drouth  was  telling  on  Glendon 's  small  herd,  but  he 
had  more  important  things  to  think  about  now.  His  trips 
to  Willcox  were  frequent;  his  periods  in  town  stretched 
over  many  days.  Katherine  might  have  wondered,  had  she 
not  been  occupied  with  her  own  anxiety — Donnie. 

Each  time  Glendon  made  preparations  to  drive  to  Will- 
cox,  she  waited  the  command  that  would  tear  the  boy  from 
her.  When  trip  after  trip  was  made  without  the  ordeal, 
her  heart  began  to  take  courage. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SIX 

ARIZONA,  like  a  pouting  child,  was  indulging  in 
one  of  her  periodic  drouths,  and  cattle  were  slowly 
succumbing  to  starvation.  The  winter  snows  and 
rains  had  been  insufficient  to  start  the  Spring  grass,  and 
though  it  was  now  late  in  August  and  the  summer  rains 
usually  began  in  June,  not  a  drop  had  fallen. 

Most  of  the  water-holes  were  dry,  and  water  in  the  wells 
of  ranches  sank  further  from  the  surface  each  day.  Many 
springs  considered  permanent,  degenerated  into  mere  mud- 
holes  where  cattle  bawled  and  crowded  one  another  into  the 
bogs  till  the  weakest  fell  and  were  suffocated  or  trampled 
to  death.  The  country  was  not  only  devoid  of  green  grass, 
but  what  dry  feed  was  left  contained  no  nutriment  what- 
ever. 

Ranchers  fortunate  enough  to  own  permanent  springs, 
-or  wells  that  were  not  yet  dry,  guarded  the  water  jealously, 
notifying  neighbours  to  come  and  care  for  the  stray  cattle 
that  lingered  bellowing  around  the  closed  watering  places, 
or  walked  aimlessly  for  miles  beside  the  barbed  wTire  fences 
that  kept  them  from  the  water  they  could  smell.  Tiny 
calves  trailed  weakly  behind  skeleton  cows;  other  cows 
abandoned  their  young;  and  all  added  hysterically  to  the 
din  of  constant  bellowing  wherever  there  was  a  pool  of 
water  to  lure  them. 

Sulphur  Springs  Valley  was  over  a  hundred  miles  long. 
It  spread  twenty  miles  across  from  the  Grahams  to  the 
Galiuros,  and  was  broken  by  groups  of  cottonwood  trees 
clustering  about  small  ponds  of  water  supplied  by  wind- 
mills. Ordinarily  these  ponds  were  open  to  all  stock,  but 
now  the  gates  were  closed.     Unless  the  water  were  used 

234 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  235 

economically  there  would  soon  be  none  in  reserve,  as  a  few 
days  without  wind  would  cut  off  the  daily  supply  from  the 
windmills,  and  dry  up  the  ponds. 

Each  day  at  ten  o'clock  the  gates  were  opened.  Cow- 
boys stood  guard,  allowing  the  cattle  bearing  the  ranch 
brands  to  enter  the  water-corrals,  all  other  stock  being- 
"cut"  away  from  water.  The  owners  of  these  strays, 
having  been  notified,  sent  men  to  drive  their  own  cattle 
home;  but  the  animals  would  not  remain  away.  Ac- 
customed to  ranging  and  watering  in  a  certain  locality, 
they  would  return  and  stand  dumbly  watching  other  cattle 
drink,  waiting  patiently  for  their  own  turn.  When  night 
fell,  they  lay  down  by  the  fence,  lowing  pitifully  until 
morning,  when  they  would  again  stagger  to  their  feet. 
Sometimes,  in  frenzy,  an  animal  tried  to  break  through  the 
wire  fence,  cutting  itself  on  the  barbs  and  growing  steadily 
weaker  hour  by  hour,  till  at  last  there  was  another  carcass 
to  be  hauled  away  from  the  fence  about  the  water  corrals. 

The  August  heat  was  intensified  by  the  drouth,  and  a 
discussion  in  the  corrals  had  annoyed  Traynor.  With  the 
mood  still  on  him,  he  entered  the  living-room  of  the  Dia- 
mond H,  where  his  wife  was  sitting  beside  a  couch  on  which 
Jamie  was  sleeping.  The  boy  had  grown  listless  of  late, 
and  Nell  tried  to  deceive  herself  by  blaming  the  weather. 
Doctor  Powell  had  been  with  them  almost  constantly,  bat- 
tling with  all  his  skill  for  the  waning  life. 

Traynor  stooped  over  the  child,  then  paced  restlessly 
up  and  down  the  room.  "I  wish  I  could  see  a  way  to  get 
you  and  the  boy  off  to  California,  Nell,  until  this  drouth  is 
over.  You  both  need  the  change.  You  have  been  a  plucky 
little  woman,  never  making  a  single  complaint ;  yet  I  know 
how  much  the  boy  means  to  you.  He  is  as  dear  as  an  own 
son  to  me,  and  it  is  maddening  to  be  tied  hand  and  foot, 
so  that  I  cannot  help  you.  I  was  a  fool  that  I  did  not 
accept  the  offer  of  that  Eastern  syndicate  last  Fall — but 
cattlemen  are  all  fools !  None  of  us  will  sell  during  a  good 
year.    Wlien  the  drouth  hits  us  we  curse  ourselves  for  let- 


236  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ting  a  sale  slip.  Drouth  or  no  drouth,  the  men  have  to  be 
paid;  grain  bought  for  the  horses  and  provisions  for  us 
all.  Where  the  money  is  coming  from,  the  Lord  only 
knows — I  don't." 

He  flung  himself  moodily  into  a  chair.  Rising  swiftly, 
Nell  went  to  his  side  and  slipped  her  arm  about  his  neck, 
looking  down  into  his  face  as  he  tried  to  smile  up  at  her. 

"Can't  you  pay  the  men  with  checks  on  the  stores  as 
you  have  always  done?"  she  asked.  "You  told  me  once 
the  stores  carried  all  bills  for  five  or  six  months,  and  ac- 
counts were  settled  when  cattle  were  sold  at  the  regular 
shipping  season." 

"That  would  be  all  right,  ordinarily;  but  unfortunately 
the  stores  don't  see  it  that  way  just  now.  They  not  only 
refuse  further  credit  for  cash  or  merchandise,  but  are  ask- 
ing settlements  of  all  accounts  in  full,  saying  they  are  be- 
ing  pressed  by  their  own  creditors.  Of  course,  one  cannot 
very  well  blame  them.  They  have  to  'save  their  own 
bacon;'  as  the  boys  say." 

' '  Is  there  any  chance  of  getting  money  from  the  Tuscon 
bank?"  asked  his  wife,  hopefully.  "When  Mr.  Eisenbart 
was  here  he  said  this  ranch  was  the  finest  piece  of  property 
— not  only  in  the  Territory — but  in  the  entire  west." 

"That  did  not  cost  him  anything,"  retorted  Traynor  bit- 
terly. "You  see,  like  most  cattlemen,  I  have  never  es- 
tablished a  credit  at  any  bank,  being  satisfied  to  do  all  my 
business  through  the  stores  which  cash  my  checks.  Con- 
sequently, now  that  the  stores  are  closing  down  on  me,  I 
have  no  other  place  to  turn  ! "  He  paced  the  floor  restlessly 
and  Nell  watched  him  with  troubled  eyes,  realizing  how  lit- 
tle she  could  help. 

"I  should  have  opened  an  account  with  some  California 
bank  long  ago,"  he  continued.  "However,  there's  no  use 
crying  over  spilled  milk.  I  did  not  fully  understand  how 
critical  my  position  was  until  I  wrote  to  Eisenbart  two 
weeks  ago.  I  offered  a  mortgage  on  the  ranches  and  all 
the  stock,  at  twelve  per  cent,  for  a  five  thousand  dollar 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  237 

loan!  Why,  this  place  is  worth  five  hundred  thousand 
dollars !  He  answered  they  were  not  making  any  new  loans 
and  were  calling  in  all  outstanding  notes.  No  one  wants  a 
mortgage  on  dead  or  dying  cattle,  but  the  land  would  have 
been  ample  security  for  ten  times  what  I  needed." 

Traynor  stood  by  the  window,  staring  out  at  the  sky. 
He  turned  and  resumed  his  restless  walking  to  and  fro, 
"God!  If  it  would  only  rain!  It's  not  just  myself,  but 
you  and  Jamie,  and  I  want  to  get  you  two  away  to  the  Coast 
for  a  while.  Then  I  got  Powell  into  the  mess,  too.  This 
drouth  hits  his  plans  pretty  hard.  All  his  money  is  now 
tied  up  in  the  Springs  and  the  PL  herd  that  he  bought  from 
Paddy!" 

"But  the  Springs  are  not  affected?"  said  Nell,  "Limber 
told  me  that  nothing  can  influence  that  water  supply." 

"No;  there  is  that  much  to  be  thankful  for,  at  least,"  he 
admitted  wearily,  sinking  down  into  a  chair,  and  letting  his 
head  drop  into  his  hands.  Nell  crossed  softly,  and  her  hand 
caressed  the  bowed  head,  until  Traynor 's  face  looked  up  at 
her.  The  haggard,  drawn  lines  about  eyes  and  mouth, 
distinct  in  the  glaring  light  from  the  window,  smote  her 
heart  with  pity  and  longing  to  comfort  him. 

"Dearest,  I  don't  care  how  poor  we  are,  so  long  as  I 
have  you  and  Jamie ;"  she  was  looking  into  his  eyes  bravely. 
"You  did  not  marry  a  rich  girl;  but  one  who  knew  what 
poverty  meant,  and  poverty  where  there  was  no  one  to 
speak  an  encouraging  word.  "We  have  a  roof  that  is  our 
own.  Even  if  the  cattle  die,  the  drouth  cannot  last  for 
ever.  When  the  rains  come  again  we  can  mortgage  the 
land,  and  get — why  we  can  get  a  few  chickens  and  a  milk- 
cow,  maybe,"  she  laughed.  "I  have  learned  to  make  dandy 
butter,  so  we  can  sell  butter  and  eggs ;  if  we  can't  get  money 
enough  to  buy  a  bunch  of  cattle.  We  won't  stay  down,  if 
we  do  get  bowled  over!" 

"Nell!  Bless  your  heart,  you'd  help  any  man  get  on  his 
feet.  Someday,  please  God,  I  will  be  able  to  give  you 
everything  money  can  buy." 


238  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"  Nothing  you  could  buy  would  make  me  as  happy  as 
knowing  I  am  able  to  help  you,"  she  smiled  through  a  mist 
of  tears. 

"I  must  go  out  and  see  what  the  boys  are  doing/'  and 
with  head  erect  Allan  Traynor  passed  through  the 
door.  Soon  Nell  heard  his  whistle — the  first  time  for 
many  days. 

The  regular  round-up  had  been  deferred  until  Fall,  as 
the  cattle  were  too  weak  to  be  handled  and  branded.  The 
Diamond  H  men  were  kept  busy,  however,  working  the  cat- 
tle at  the  watering  places  or  riding  the  range  where  the 
weakest  stock  was  "cut  out"  and  driven  slowly  to  the 
ranch  and  fed  at  the  big  stacks  of  native  hay,  or  in  the 
pastures  that  Traynor 's  foresight  had  reserved  for  such 
an  emergency.  Other  ranchers,  who  had  been  amused  at 
his  idea  of  fencing  pastures  when  the  whole  country  was  an 
open  range,  now  saw  his  plans  had  been  good  judgment,  and 
looked  with  chagrin  at  their  own  dying  cattle  which  might 
have  been  saved  by  such  measures. 

One  afternoon  near  sunset,  Paddy  Lafferty  appeared  at 
the  Diamond  H  stables.  Tying  his  dejected,  flea-bitten 
grey  horse  in  a  stall,  he  unbuckled  his  rusty  spurs  and  hung 
them  over  the  horn  of  his  saddle. 

"Whar's  Limber?"  he  asked  Bronco,  who  passed  the 
door  of  the  building. 

"Hot  Springs,"  Bronco  returned,  in  gasps  of  lighting  a 
cigarette.     "Doc's  at — Tucson." 

"Whar's  the  bye?" 

"Inside  the  house." 

Paddy  waited  no  longer,  but  stalked  through  the  Court 
and  knocked  at  the  door  of  the  sitting-room. 

Nell  met  him  and  her  eyes  lighted  with  pleasure,  for  his 
quaint,  Irish  humour  was  never  tiresome  to  her.  Then,  too, 
she  saw  the  sincerity  under  the  surface.  Paddy  stepped 
with  awkward  care  across  the  room  and  seated  himself  on 
the  edge  of  a  chair. 

"How  do  he  bye  a  doin'?"  he  asked  in  his  customary 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  239 

hoarse  whisper,  jerking  his  head  toward  the  lounge  where 
Jamie  lay  in  uneasy  sleep. 

"Not  as  well  as  usual,  Paddy.  He  tires  easily,"  she 
answered  sadly,  knowing  only  too  well  that  the  little  life 
was  slipping  away  hour  by  hour,  though  she  had  kept  the 
thought  to  herself,  believing  that  Traynor  was  still  blind 
to  the  truth  and  not  wishing  to  add  to  his  many  anxieties. 
She  was  unaware  that  Powell  and  Traynor  had  warned  the 
boys  not  to  speak  to  her  of  the  child's  serious  condition. 

Paddy  had  also  been  told  of  the  deception,  and  had  given 
his  word  to  Traynor.  He  sat  looking  at  Nell  intently, 
knitting  his  shaggy  eye-brows,  and  trying  to  think  what  to 
say  without  betraying  his  knowledge. 

"Mebbe  it's  the  weather  do  be  a  doin'  it.  Misthress 
Thraynor.  "Whin  the  rain  comes  he  will  be  afther  falih' 
betther." 

"Oh,  if  we  could  only  get  rain!"  she  cried.  "Do  you 
think  the  cattle  blame  us  for  their  suffering  when  they  look 
at  us  with  their  pitiful,  patient  eyes?  I  want  to  tell  them 
we  are  suffering,  too.  Yesterday  I  watched  a  cow,  stand- 
ing by  her  dying  calf,  licking  its  face.  It  was  like  some- 
thing human.  After  it  died  the  mother  stood  there — and 
this  morning  she  would  not  leave  it  until  I  asked  Bronco 
to  take  it  away  from  her.  I  couldn't  stand  it.  Please 
don't  think  I  am  crazy,  Paddy,  but  it  seemed  so  cruel  that 
a  tiny,  helpless  creature  should  come  into  the  world  for  a 
few  weeks,  only  to  suffer  and  die." 

"Yez  ain't  the  only  wan  that  do  be  a  worritiu'  over  the 
sayson,  Misthress  Thraynor,"  rejoined  Paddy,  who  had 
found  conversational  bearings  at  last.  "Paple  passes  on 
the  road  widout  savin'  ache  ither,  becoz  they're  all  so  busy 
lookin'  up  at  the  sky — "  he  was  trying  hard  to  tide  her 
over  the  danger  point.  "They're  all  a  boyin'  linnyments 
to  rub  their  necks,  becoz  of  the  kinks  from  lookin'  for  the 
clouds."  Nodding  approval  at  a  faint  smile  he  had  evoked, 
he  wTent  on:  "  Yez  was  talkin'  about  cattle  havin'  rayson, 
Misthress    Thraynor.     Did   yez   be   afther  knowin'   whin 


240  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ould  cows  on  the  range  have  young  calves  too  wake  to  walk 
fur,  they  all  put  their  heads  together  and  talk  it  over, 
loike  a  lot  of  women-folks  does,  an'  thin  wan  of  thim  cows 
sthays  and  takes  care  of  four  or  foive  calves,  whilst  the 
ither  cows  goes  off  to  wather,  mebbe  tin  miles  away.  Thin 
she  takes  her  turn  whin  the  ithers  comes  back.  Now,  if 
that  ain't  rayson,  be  jabers,  phwat  is  it?" 

"I  believe  all  animals  have  some  reason,  Paddy.  It  is 
human  beings  who  do  not  understand  them.  We  call  them 
dumb  brutes,  because  we  lack  the  patience  or  intelligence 
to  comprehend.  I  have  learned  a  great  deal  since  coming 
here  to  live." 

"Did  yez  iver  say  a  cow  funeral,  Misthress  Thraynor?" 
asked  Paddy. 

"No,  but  I  have  heard  the  boys  speak  of  them,"  she  an- 
swered. 

"It's  a  funny  thing,"  went  on  Paddy.  "Sometoimes  a 
critter 's  been  killed  a  wake  or  two,  and  no  soign  of  it  to  be 
seen.  Thin  an  ould  cow  will  come  along  wid  her  nose  to 
the  ground,  loike  a  dog  on  a  trail,  shniffin',  and  suddenly 
she  raises  up  her  head  and  lits  out  a  yell  loike  an  Apache 
Injun.  As  soon  as  she  does  thot  all  the  cattle  that  are  nigh 
enough  to  hear  comes  a  runnin'  to  beat  the  divvle,  an' 
yellin'  as  loud  as  they  can.  Thin  they  all  sthand  around 
ashniffin'  and  bawlin'  and  pawin'  up  the  ground  to  beat  the 
band.  They  don't  seem  to  moind  if  a  cow  dies  natural,  but 
when  wan  of  thim  is  killed  so  its  blood  touches  the  ground, 
it  upsets  the  bunch  of  thim  as  soon  as  they  find  out  about  it. 
There  was  a  tinder-foot  that  committed  suicide  three  years 
ago,  when  he  laughed  at  one  of  the  Erie  outfit  that  was 
tellin'  about  a  cow  funeral.  The  Erie  boys  had  things 
pretty  much  their  own  way,  them  days." 

"Suicide?"  asked  Nell,  wonderingly. 

"Well,  it  figured  out  that  way.  He  killed  hisself  by 
bein'  too  slow  drawin'  his  gun." 

' '  TTow  much  longer  do  you  think  the  cattle  will  hold  out, 
Paddy?"  she  asked  anxiously. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  241 

"Oi  belave  the  strongest  wans  kin  hould  out  six  wakes, 
but  the  poorest  wans  can't  last  over  two.  Yez  say,  afther 
the  rains  comes  it  beats  down  the  dry  fade  that  is  lift,  and 
there  won't  be  any  strength  to  the  new  fade  for  siveral 
wakes,  so  thot  makes  it  harder  for  a  whoile  afther  the  rains 
stharts.  Thin's  the  toime  cattle  gives  up."  Paddy  paused 
and  smoked  reflectively,  while  Nell  rocked  slowly,  immersed 
in  anxious  thoughts.  Paddy  squinted  at  her  from  under 
his  heavy  eyebrows,  then  broke  the  silence,  saying,  "Did 
yez  iver  say  ould  man  Brandther  ? ' ' 

Nell  shook  her  head. 

"WiU,"  resumed  Paddy,  "he's  the  only  wan  in  Arizony 
I'm  not  sorry  for.  He's  gittin'  it  in  the  nick,  now,  an' 
Oi'm  dumned  glad  of  it!  Oi  till  yez,  he's  a  genywine 
hypercrit !  Always  says  grace  at  male  toimes ;  and  whin 
he  gits  out  of  bed  mornin's  he  goes  on  his  knaze  wid  his 
noight-shirt  a  rloppin'  around  his  shanks  and  t'umps  his 
craw  and  tills  the  Good  Lard  what  a  fine  man  ould  Brand- 
ther is !  Thin,  he  goes  on  the  range  and  swoipes  a  couple 
of  calves ;  and  when  noight  comes,  he  gits  on  his  knaze  agin 
an  t'umps  his  craw,  and  t'anks  the  Good  Lard  for  all  the 
marcies  He  has  besthowecl  that  day. ' ' 

Despite  her  heavy  heart,  Nell's  eye  twinkled,  her  mouth 
twitched  and  a  dimple  began  to  show.  The  dimple  had 
been  hidden  away  for  many  days.  Paddy  saw  and  ap- 
proved it. 

"He  sthayed  to  my  place  wan  noight  the  last  toime  he 
come  to  his  ranch,  and  thot's  how  I  know  about  his  religious 
belafes  of  hisself.  Afther  he  had  lift,  Oi  flopped  on  my 
knaze  and  t'anked  the  Saints  and  the  Good  Lard  that  thar 
wasn  't  but  wan  real  good  and  holy  man  in  Arizony  so  long 
as  I  was  in  the  cattle  raising  business. ' ' 

In  spite  of  her  anxiety,  Nell 's  laughter  rang  through  the 
room,  as  she  pictured  the  pompous  Mr.  Brander  thumping 
his  ' '  craw. ' '  The  man  was  very  wealthy,  and  only  visited 
his  ranch  at  intervals,  but  was  so  rabidly  anti-Catholic  that 
he  never  missed  any  opportunity  to  harangue  on  the  topic, 


242  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

and  lie  allowed  no  Mexicans  employed  on  his  ranch,  because 
of  their  religion. 

"It  seems  pitiful  that  we  need  rains  so  badly  here,  while 
the  farmers  in  the  East  are  complaining  of  too  much,"  Nell 
said,  unable  to  avoid  the  topic  that  was  so  vital  to  them 
all. 

"Oi'm  siventy-foive  years  ould,  Misthress  Thraynor,  and 
Oi've  found  things  ginerally  works  that  way.  Boy-the- 
boy,  have  yez  iver  been  to  Nye  Yark  ? ' ' 

"I  was  born  there  and  lived  there  with  my  parents  till 
they  died,  then  the  money  went  and  I  worked,  Paddy.  I 
had  to  earn  enough  for  Jamie  and  myself,  you  see.  There 
was  no  one  to  help  us.  You  get  frightened  when  you 
know  you  are  only  one  in  the  four  millions  people  around 
you." 

"The  nixt  toime  yez  go  to  Nye  Yark,"  said  Paddy, 
"there's  a  little  restyrant  yez  want  to  be  afther  thryin'. 
Oi  disremember  the  name  of  the  strate  yez  sthart  from,  but 
ony  way,  yez  go  tin  strates  to  the  roight,  thin  thray  strates 
to  the  lift,  and  thin  yez  kape  straight  on  till  yez  say  the 
place,  and  there  yez  are.  Yez  can't  miss  it.  Yez  can  git 
the  best  male  yez  iver  ate  in  your  loife,"  he  leaned  over 
and  dropped  his  voice  more  confidentially,  "and  they  only 
charge  tin  cints ! ' ' 

In  order  to  hide  the  twitching  corners  of  her  mouth,  as 
she  conjured  up  a  vision  of  turning  cannibal  and  devour- 
ing "the  best  male  yez  iver  ate  in  your  loife,"  Nell  moved 
to  the  window  and  stood  picking  dead  leaves  from  a  com- 
mon geranium  growing  in  a  crude  window  box  on  the  inner 
ledge  formed  by  the  thick  adobe  walls  of  the  house. 

"It's  growing  beautifully,  Paddy,"  she  said  to  the  old 
man,  "and  Jamie  and  I  love  to  watch  it.  Only,  I  hate  to 
have  you  give  it  up  yourself  after  you  have  had  it  so  long. 
It's  a  beautiful  geranium." 

"Oh,  well,"  Paddy  replied  carelessly,  waving  his  hand 
with  the  pipe,  "I  was  away  from  the  house  so  much  that 
half  the  toime  I'd  fergit  to  wather  it.     It's  a  long  ways 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  243 

betther  since  you  took  care  of  it.  Only,  yez  remimber,  yez 
mustn't  give  it  away  to  anybody  ilse.  Yez  see,  it  belonged 
to  the  ould  Dootch  woman  I  married,  and  she  thought  a 
lot  of  it.  Oi  wouldn't  give  it  to  any  wan  ilse  but  you  and 
Jamie. ' ' 

Nell's  face  was  sympathetic.  She  had  heard  of  the 
strange  wife  of  old  Paddy,  who  spoke  only  Holland  Dutch, 
while  Paddy  spoke  not  one  word  of  the  language ;  but  they 
had  managed  to  get  along  together  till  she  passed  away. 
Paddy  had  never  called  her  anything  except  "The  ould 
Dootch  woman." 

"It  needs  water  now,"  Nell  spoke  after  prodding  in  the 
earth.     I'll  get  some  from  the  well." 

When  she  left  the  room,  Paddy  laid  his  beloved  pipe 
aside,  then  drew  his  chair  near  the  sleeping  boy.  As  he 
watched  the  pale,  parted  lips,  the  faint  breath,  the  dark 
rings  under  the  half-closed  eyes,  something  warm  and  moist 
slipped  down  the  old  man'  cheek  and  dropped  upon  his 
wrinkled,  calloused  hand.  "Lard,"  he  whispered  hoarsely, 
"I  can't  see  why  yez  let  an  ould  useless  bag  o'  bones  like 
me  kape  on  livin'  and  take  the  little  lad  that  iverywan 
wants  and  loves.     Can't  ye  swap  us?" 

Then  Nell  returned,  and  Paddy  straightened  up.  "He 
never  even  peeped,"  he  announced,  turning  to  watch  her 
water  the  plants.  There  was  a  peculiar  expression  on  his 
face  as  he  walked  slowly  over  to  where  Nell  let  the  water 
flow  gently  on  the  dry  soil,  then  taking  a  pair  of  scissors 
from  her  work-box  she  pruned  the  plants  carefully,  say- 
ing, "Jamie  usually  takes  care  of  them  himself,  but  the 
last  week  I  have  done  it  for  him.  He  is  so  easily  tired. 
Did  you  ever  think  that  life  is  just  like  a  plant,  Paddy? 
It  starts  out  so  bravely,  sending  its  roots  deep  into  the 
soil,  and  spreading  its  tender  leaves  to  the  sunshine — 
Happy,  just  because  it  is  alive.  Then  the  Gardener  comes 
and  prunes  the  stalks,  and  the  plant  does  not  understand 
why  it  is  treated  so  cruelly.  Sometimes  it  seems  as  though 
the  leaves  would  never  start  again,  but  after  a  while  the 


244  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

blossoms  are  more  beautiful  than  ever,  for  pruning  makes 
it  stronger."  She  paused,  looking  down  at  the  plants,  then 
her  voice  trembled  a  little,  ' '  I  am  trying  so  hard,  Paddy,  to 
believe  that  the  Gardener  knows  what  is  best." 

He  knew  she  was  thinking  of  the  child  on  the  couch,  and 
he  held  out  his  rough  hand ;  ' '  Oi  giss  yez  are  roight,  Misth- 
ress  Thraynor.  Things  wurrk  out  in  the  ind,  if  we  do  be 
doin7  the  bist  we  know  how.  Oi've  lived  among  the  cattle 
so  long  that  I  don't  know  anything  ilse  but  cows  and  cow- 
talk,  but  if  iver  yez  nade  a  frind,  jist  yez  remimber  ould 
Paddy." 


PART  THREE 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-SEVEN 

GLENDON,  just  back  from  one  of  his  numerous 
trips  to  town,  tossed  a  letter  to  his  wife  without 
a  word.  It  fell  to  the  floor,  but  she  reached  for 
it  quickly,  her  heart  beating  fast  at  the  thought  it  might  be 
a  reply  from  her  Aunt  Jane. 

There  had  been  no  further  discussion  between  herself 
and  her  husband  about  Donnie  going  away,  but  she  did  not 
know  at  what  hour  the  ordeal  might  face  her.  Even  if 
Aunt  Jane  declined  to  advise  her  in  this  matter,  or  aid  in 
any  way,  Katherine  wished  that  the  strained  relations  be- 
tween herself  and  the  only  one  belonging  to  her  by  ties  of 
blood,  might  be  more  kindly.  She  had  come  to  understand 
Aunt  Jane's  attitude  and  to  acknowledge  that  the  old  lady 
had  read  Glendon 's  character  better  than  the  girl  who  mar- 
ried him. 

Looking  back,  Katherine  saw  all  too  clearly,  that  what 
she  had  mistaken  for  love,  had  been  reaction  against  the 
dull  monotony  of  her  life  with  Ann  and  Aunt  Jane,  and  a 
longing  for  some  outlet  for  her  repressed  emotions.  This 
very  knowledge  made  her  more  staunch  in  her  attitude  to 
Glendon,  fearing  that  her  own  lack  of  deep  affection  made 
her  more  alive  to  his  shortcomings. 

Her  husband  stood  watching  her,  and  she  knew  that 
whatever  might  be  the  contents  of  that  letter,  he  would  de- 
mand the  right  to  see  it.  She  had  no  friends  who  wrote 
her.  If  Aunt  Jane  mentioned  receiving  any  letter,  or  re- 
ferred to  the  appeal,  Glendon  would  at  once  understand 
that  his  wife  had  written  without  his  knowledge  and  this 
very  fact  would  precipitate  the  catastrophe  she  had  hoped 
to  avert. 

247 


248  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

The  letter  was  lying  face  down  between  them  on  the 
floor.  Hiding  the  nauseating  fear,  she  picked  it  up  and 
turned  it  over.  The  engraved  address  of  a  firm  of  lawyers 
met  her  eyes.     Her  name,  the  ranch,  typed. 

Puzzled,  she  tore  open  the  long  envelope  and  started  to 
read.  Then  she  looked  up  at  Glendon,  her  eyes  full  of 
tears,  her  lips  trembling,  as  she  said  brokenly,  "Aunt  Jane 
is  dead!" 

"Well,  what  of  it?"  he  demanded.  "Do  you  expect  me 
to  howl  with  grief?  You've  not  heard  from  her  for  years. 
Can't  see  that  it  makes  much  difference  to  you  whether 
she's  dead  or  alive.     The  old  cat!" 

Her  eyes  went  back  to  the  pages  in  her  hand.  They  were 
typed  and  lengthy.  She  read  them  through,  then,  without 
comment  handed  them  to  Glendon. 

"It's  a  legacy/'  she  said  simply. 

He  sat  down  and  began  perusing  the  contents  of  the  com- 
munication, his  brows  knitting  angrily  as  he  grasped  the 
purport. 

Dear  Madam: 

Miss  Jane  Grimes,  whose  will  has  been  left  in  our  hands, 
has  made  you  and  your  son,  Donald,  beneficiaries  subject  to 
certain  conditions. 

A  sufficient  sum  to  educate  your  son  is  set  aside,  all  bills 
to  be  rendered  to  the  Trust  Company  and  paid  by  them. 
Your  desires  to  be  considered  in  the  selection  of  proper 
school,  but  one  which  must  be  approved  by  the  Trust  Com- 
pany. 

Twelve  hundred  dollars  annuity  to  be  paid  to  you  after 
the  death  of  your  husband,  James  W.  Glendon.  Until  de- 
mise of  James  W.  Glendon,  the  twelve  hundred  dollars  per 
annum  and  accruing  interest  shall  be  held  by  the  Trust 
Company. 

In  event  of  failure  to  agree  to  the  terms  set  forth  in  the 
will,  copy  of  which  is  herewith  enclosed,  the  entire  estate  is 
to  revert  to  the  Prohibition  Society  of  America.  Otherwise, 
the  estate  will  pass  to  your  son  on  his  thirtieth  birthday. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  249 

Kindly  communicate  with  us  at  your  earliest  convenience, 
and  oblige,  Yours  very   respectfully, 

Goodrich  Trust  Company. 
P.  S.     Letter  enclosed  from  Miss  Grimes. 

The  other  letter  read, 

Dear  Eatherine; 

You  have  had  time  now  to  realize  that  my  estimate  of 
James  Glendon's  character  was  correct.  I  have  been  at 
some  pains  and  expense  during  the  last  seven  years,  since 
you  moved  to  Arizona,  to  keep  myself  informed  as  to  your 
husband's  actions.  I  feel  that  I  was  justified,  and  it  im- 
pels me  to  do  all  I  am  able  to  assist  you  after  I  am  gone, 
without  being  of  any  comfort  or  benefit  to  a  man  whom  I 
despise. 

You  are  to  confer  with  the  Trust  Company  regarding  a 
school  for  Donnie.  It  must  be  a  school  where  self-respect 
and  honour  are  taught;  in  fact,  an  old-fashioned  school 
where  boys  are  trained  in  the  almost  forgotten  standards 
of  an  old-fashioned  gentleman. 

The  annuity  of  twelve  hundred  dollars  a  year  will  be 
paid  you  at  the  death  of  your  husband,  for  I  know  your  in- 
flexible principles  and  that  you  will  never  invoke  the  aid  of 
the  law  to  protect  you  by  a  divorce.  It  is  because  I,  myself, 
am  opposed  to  the  wide-spread  evil  of  divorce,  that  I  am  try- 
ing my  best  to  aid  you  without  aiding  your  husband 
financially.  I  wish  to  prevent  him  from  benefitting  in  any 
way.  I  am  confident  that  you  will  sorely  need  enough  to 
provide  a  roof  and  food  in  event  of  his  death,  and  should  I 
make  any  other  provisions  for  you  and  your  child,  I  do  not 
believe  either  of  you  would  benefit  one  cent  by  my  legacy. 

He  is  the  type  of  man  who  has  no  sense  of  moral  obliga- 
tion, but  I  want  you  to  understand  that  you  have  my 
sympathy,  and  that  you  always  had  my  love. 

Affectionately, 

Aunt  Jane  Grimes. 

Glendon  finished  the  two  letters,  returned  them  to  his 
wife  with  a  shrug  of  his  shoulders,  saying,  ' '  Sweet  old  cat ! 


250  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

She  certainly  had  it  in  for  me  from  the  very  first  day  we 
met!" 

Katherine  waited  for  a  violent  tirade,  but  Glendon  turned 
on  his  heel  and  left  the  room.  It  was  a  relief  to  her,  but 
the  uncertainty  was  not  dispelled. 

Four  days  went  by,  and  then  Katherine  broached  the 
topic. 

"Jim,  I've  got  to  answer  that  letter." 

He  was  sitting  on  the  porch  step  smoking,  his  thoughts 
evidently  far-afield. 

"What  letter?" 

"About  the  legacy  and  sending  Donnie  to  school,"  was 
the  woman's  reply.  She  knew  that  the  future  of  the 
child  depended  on  the  answer  she  waited  from  the  child's 
father.  Her  hands  lay  in  her  lap,  gripped  tensely,  her  eyes 
looked  pleadingly  at  the  face  of  the  man. 

"Do  as  you  please  about  it,"  the  words  were  indifferent. 
"I  haven't  any  time  to  waste  talking  over  these  things. 
This  drouth  will  about  wind  up  my  remnant  of  credit  in 
Arizona.  It  won't  make  any  difference  to  you,  for  you're 
heeled  for  life,  if  I  am  out  of  the  way." 

She  tried  to  tell  him  her  appreciation,  "Jim!  I  will 
stand  by  you,  no  matter  what  comes!  "With  Donnie 's  ed- 
ucation provided  for,  we  can  surely  win  out  together!" 
she  moved  impulsively  to  his  side,  laid  her  hand  on  his 
shoulder  and  stooped  over  to  kiss  him,  but  Glendon 's  shoul- 
der jerked  away  roughly,  as  he  answered,  "Oh,  for  God's 
sake,  Katherine,  stop  your  melodramatics  and  let  me 
alone!" 

Despite  the  rebuff,  her  heart  was  singing  with  joy  as  she 
hurried  to  write  the  Trust  Company,  and  stated  that  she 
could  have  Donnie  ready  to  start  East  in  two  weeks;  but 
that  she  had  not  the  money,  nor  could  she  come  with  him 
on  that  account.  The  drouth  in  Arizona  had  stagnated  all 
cattle  business  temporarily. 

Katherine  explained  to  the  child  that  his  going  away  was 
with  her  full  consent,  and  that  it  did  not  mean  he  was  to 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  251 

stay  away,  except  during  the  school  term.  They  could  be 
together  for  the  summer  vacations.  She  also  told  him  of 
the  strange  old  aunt  who  had  cared  for  her  own  educa- 
tion, and  who,  though  dead,  now  made  it  possible  for  him 
to  go  to  a  good  school,  such  as  his  father  could  not  afford. 
She  made  him  understand,  too,  that  his  father  had  given 
consent,  and  without  such  consent,  no  one  could  have  done 
anything. 

The  reply  from  the  Trust  Company  informed  her  that 
one  of  the  members  of  the  firm  would  meet  the  child  at 
Willcox  on  a  date  specified.  That  business  matters  had 
made  a  trip  to  California  imperative,  and  the  return  trip 
would  be  arranged  via  Willcox,  if  the  child  were  there  at 
the  time. 

Katherine  timidly  told  this  to  her  husband,  but  met  with 
no  opposition.  His  acquiescence  surprised  and  touched 
her.  She  ascribed  it  to  his  desire  to  make  amends,  and  her 
gratitude  was  pathetic.  Yet,  knowing  his  vacillating  char- 
acter, she  hastened  to  perfect  arrangements.  Not  until  she 
saw  the  child  in  charge  of  the  man  who  met  them  at  Will- 
cox, and  accompanied  them  to  the  depot  platform,  did  she 
feel  safe.  She  clasped  the  boy  in  a  last,  close  embrace 
and  watched  him  wave  from  the  window  of  the  train.  The 
" stone  wall  had  toppled  over/'  and  the  hideous  fear  of  los- 
ing her  boy  completely  was  laid  to  rest. 

Aunt  Jane  had  not  answered  her  letter  but  now  Katherine 
knew  that  the  old  lady  had  understood  the  situation  and 
set  her  wits  to  work  to  aid  the  niece  she  really  loved. 

Before  the  train  pulled  out  Doctor  Powell  crossed  the 
street,  and  stood  talking  with  Donnie,  thus  helping  both 
in  their  battle  to  be  brave.  Then,  Katherine  and  Powell 
stood  side  by  side,  watching  the  train  pull  away  until  it 
disappeared  in  the  gap  between  the  Graham  and  Dos  Cab- 
ezas  ranges.  But,  long  before  the  crags  intervened,  it  had 
vanished  from  the  mother's  eyes  in  a  blur  of  tears. 

"Tell  me,"  Powell  spoke,  "Is  Donnie  going  to  his  grand- 
father?"    He   was   thinking   of   the   paper   that   reposed 


252  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

in  the  hands  of  his  lawyers,  and  wondered  if  Glendon  had 
dared  defy  him. 

"No,"  Katherine  smiled  happily,  "Jim  gave  up  that  in- 
tention some  time  ago.  It  was  a  legacy  from  an  aunt  of 
mine,  which  provides  for  Donnie's  education.  So,  you  see, 
you  were  right.     The  stone  wall  has  toppled  over!" 

Powell's  hand  gripped  hers,  "I'm  glad  for  your  sake  and 
for  Donnie's!" 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-EIGHT 

ANOTHER  month  passed  and  the  drouth  was  still 
unbroken.  Stores  were  threatened  with  bank- 
ruptcy and  cattlemen  saw  vast  herds,  accumulated 
through  years  of  hard  toil,  dwindle  to  one-fourth  the  or- 
iginal number,  and  faced  the  possibility  of  losing  that  also. 

The  Arizona  ranges  for  years  had  been  badly  over- 
stocked ;  but  each  rancher  waited  for  his  neighbour  to  get 
rid  of  the  surplus  cattle,  hoping  thereby  to  benefit  his  own 
herd.  Over-crowding  ranges  resulted  in  the  tramping  out 
of  the  roots,  and  what  was  more  serious,  grass  was  cropped 
so  closely  that  there  was  no  opportunity  for  seed  to  ma- 
ture and  fall  to  the  ground  and  germinate  for  another  year. 
In  former  times  a  drouth  would  not  have  been  so  disastrous 
as  under  the  existing  conditions  of  the  ranges. 

Having  done  all  in  his  power  to  mitigate  the  situation, 
Traynor  fought  a  despondency  that  was  entirely  foreign  to 
his  nature.  It  was  augmented  by  his  desire  to  conceal  the 
facts  from  his  wife,  and  to  this  was  added  his  knowledge 
that  Jamie  was  continually  growing  weaker.  He  had  called 
the  men  into  the  office  and  told  them  frankly  that  he  would 
not  be  able  to  keep  them  much  longer,  as  he  was  straining 
every  financial  possibility. 

The  result  of  that  conference  was  a  surprise  that  un- 
manned him.  Limber,  Bronco,  Holy  and  Roarer  declined 
to  be  "fired,"  stating  they  would  work  for  "chuck"  until 
the  drouth  was  over,  and  when  he  remonstrated,  the  four  of 
them  stalked  out  of  the  room,  as  Limber  remarked,  "We've 
got  business  to  attend  to  outside — instead  of  talking  fool- 
ishness inside." 

"If  I  could  manage  to  get  a  few  thousands,"  said  Tray- 

253 


254  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

nor  to  Nell  as  they  left  the  breakfast  table  one  morning, 
"I  would  not  hesitate  to  round  up  all  the  weakest  cattle  and 
ship  at  once  to  Colorado,  leaving  the  stronger  ones  take 
their  chances  here  on  the  range.  However,  I  might  as  well 
wish  for  rain ;  that  would  be  less  improbable  than  obtaining 
the  money.  The  most  aggravating  thing  is  knowing  that  I 
could  save  the  greater  part  of  the  herd  if  I  could  only 
ship  them.  Native  grass  is  plentiful  and  pasturage  cheap 
in  Colorado  this  year;  once  I  had  the  cattle  there  I  could 
easily  raise  money  at  one  of  the  Colorado  banks  on  the 
stock,  and  so  relieve  the  tension  here  as  well  as  there.  If 
I  pull  through  this  year,  I  will  keep  money  in  readiness  for 
such  an  emergency,  hereafter.  It 's  been  a  good  lesson ;  but 
a  mighty  expensive  one." 

As  he  walked  slowly  to  the  barn,  he  passed  Paddy  with 
a  large  parcel  coming  into  the  courtyard. 

"Oi've  got  somethings  for  the  bye  and  the  misthress," 
he  explained,  and  Traynor  told  him  they  were  in  the  living- 
room. 

"Hello,  ould  Sphort!"  Paddy  said  to  the  boy,  who  was 
standing  by  his  sister,  watching  her  water  the  geraniums. 

"There's  a  new  bunch  of  buds  Paddy;"  the  child  an- 
nounced and  Paddy  examined  the  plants  critically. 

"Yez  can't  giss  what  Oi  brought  wid  me  for  yez;"  he 
said.  "A  babby  deer.  Oi  caught  it  at  Mud  Springs  an' 
brung  it  in  fer  yez. ' ' 

' '  Oh,  Paddy ! ' '  Jamie 's  face  glowed  with  delight.  ' '  How 
did  you  catch  it?     Where  is  it?" 

"From  the  looks  of  it,  its  mother  has  been  dead  for  a 
couple  of  days.  Giss  the  coyotes  or  a  lion  got  her,  and  the 
little  fellow  was  mighty  wake,  and  was  willin'  to  make 
friends.  Oi  carried  him  twelve  moiles  in  me  arrums  on 
the  ould  grey  horse.  He's  out  in  the  stables  now,  and  the 
byes  says  for  yez  to  come  out  and  get  introjuiced  to  him. 
They're  goin'  to  give  him  milk  from  a  bottle  till  it  gits  big 
enough  to  ate  ither  things. ' ' 

The  child's  eyes  were  bright  with  excitement  as  he  made 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  255 

Iris  way  to  the  barn,  where  Bronco  and  the  other  boys  sur- 
rounded a  small  fawn.  Holy  was  holding  a  bottle  of  milk 
to  its  mouth,  while  Bronco  stroked  the  throat  to  help  it 
swallow,  for  the  fawn  was  very  weak.  "Gee!  he  was 
hungry!"  said  Holy  to  Jamie.  "We  have  to  learn  him  to 
take  the  milk  this  way,  and  when  he  gets  a  little  stronger 
he  can  take  it  from  a  pan.  Isn't  he  pretty?  He  is  such  a 
dark  brown  on  the  back,  and  just  look  how  plain  his  spots 
is.     Funny  they  lose  'em  when  they're  yearlings!" 

"What  you  goin'  to  name  it,  Kid?"  asked  Bronco. 

"Patsy,"  replied  Jamie  promptly,  as  he  knelt  and  stroked 
the  soft  fur  with  his  thin  hand.  The  fawn  turned  its  head 
and  licked  his  hand,  then  gazed  at  the  child  with  its  beau- 
tiful eyes.  The  thin  arms  went  about  the  fawn's  neck 
gently. 

"He  knows  you  won't  hurt  him,  Kid;"  spoke  Holy,  then 
turned  away  quickly,  swearing  to  himself.  "They're  both 
about  all  in,  an'  nobody  can't  do  nothin'." 

After  Jamie  left  the  room,  Paddy  untied  the  string  that 
held  a  flour-sack  in  an  unsightly  bundle.  He  tiptoed  over 
to  the  table  and  laid  the  parcel  beside  Mrs.  Traynor  's  work- 
basket. 

"Oi  just  got  this  from  the  stage  dhriver,  Yez  mabbe 
afther  hearin'  Oi  niver  knowed  how  to  rade  an'  write, 
Misthress  Thraynor?" 

She  nodded  her  head,  and  Paddy,  finding  the  string  ob- 
durate, produced  a  gigantic  pocket-knife,  such  as  is  used 
by  cattlemen  in  ear-marking  calves. 

"Will,  Oi  hed  an  agrayment  wid  ould  man  Sullivan  that 
he  was  to  rade  the  poipers  fer  me,  an'  would  yez  belave  it, 
the  dummed  ould  skoonk  was  afther  thryin'  to  make  me 
pay  him  for  radin'  thim.  He  says,  says  he,  'Oi've  been  to 
the  throuble  of  radin'  thim  for  wan  year,  an'  be  jabers,  Oi 
desarve  cumpinsation. '  An  Oi  says  to  him,  says  Oi,  'Ahl 
roight,  Sullivan.  Phwat's  the  damidge?'  'Foive  dollars,' 
says  he  as  bould  as  brass.  'Ahl  roight,'  says  Oi.  'Oi'll 
pay  yez  foive  dollars  fer  radin'  thim  poipers,  Misther  Sul- 


256  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

livan,  and  yez  are  goin'  to  pay  me  tin  dollars  for  the  use 
of  thim.'  lie  jumped  up  and  roared  at  me,  "Thim  poipers 
only  cost  foive  dollars  for  wan  year.'  'Thrue  for  yez,' 
says  Oi;  'and  yez  nadent  git  hot  in  the  collar  about  it,  at 
all,  at  all.  Oi'm  only  charging  yez  fer  takin'  up  my  toime 
whilst  Oi  was  waitin'  fer  yez  to  spill  out  the  big  wurrds !'  ' 
Paddy  smiled  grimly  as  he  crowded  some  fresh  tobacco 
into  his  pipe,  and  after  taking  a  few  preliminary  puffs,  he 
continued.  "Will,  Sullivan  niver  collected  thot  foive  dol- 
lars. Oi  thought  Oi  would  be  afthar  bringin'  thim  poipers 
here,  so  you  can  rade  thim  and  till  me  the  news  forinst  Oi 
come  again." 

As  he  spoke,  he  shook  the  sack,  and  a  solitary  paper  fell 
on  the  table — The  Tombstone  Epitaph — which  was  pub- 
lished weekly  at  the  County  seat.  It  consisted  of  one  page 
of  local  gossip,  two  pages  of  pictured  cattle,  bearing  various 
hieroglyphics,  which  to  the  initiated  represented  brands 
and  ear-marks,  while  the  fourth  page  was  filled  with  ad- 
vertising matter  of  the  local  stores.  A  similar  paper  was 
published  weekly  at  Willcox.  "Oi  loike  the  Epitaph  and 
the  Willcox  poiper,"  explained  Paddy  with  twinkling 
eyes,  "beeaze  Oi  can  look  at  the  cows  and  tell  which  ind  of 
the  poiper  goes  bottom  side  up.  Here's  a  book  the  stage 
dhriver  got  fer  me.  He  says  it's  foine;  and  yez  can  rade 
it  to  yourself,  then  tell  me  about  it,  sometoime.  It 's  called 
'The  Revinge  of  Bloody  Dick.'  " 

A  final  shake  of  the  sack  and  "Bloody  Dick"  appeared, 
followed  by  several  magazines  of  fashions,  and  a  couple  of 
home  periodicals,  containing  carefully  censored  stories  for 
women  and  children,  which  huddled  together  limply  like 
shocked  old  maids  surprised  in  questionable  company. 

Nell  struggled  with  a  hysterical  desire  to  laugh,  as  she 
glanced  from  the  strangely  garbed  figure  of  the  old  man  to 
the  conventional  fashion-plates ;  but,  appreciating  the  rough 
chivalry  that  had  inspired  the  act,  a  lump  grew  in  her 
throat,  and  dropping  her  head  on  the  table  the  sobs  came 
unchecked. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  25T 

Paddy  moved  to  her  side  and  stroked  her  hair  gently, 
speaking  as  though  to  an  injured  child. 

"Shure,  Oi  didn't  mane  to  make  yez  fale  bad,  at  all,  at 
all,  little  gurrl.  Oi  thuoght  if  yez  was  radin'  yez  wouldn't 
be  worritin'  so  much  about  the  cattle." 

"It  is  Jamie,  too,"  she  sobbed.  "I  know  he  is  growing 
weaker;  but  Allan  does  not  know  it,  yet.  I've  been  keep- 
ing it  from  him,  for  he  has  so  much  worry  now.  If  he 
could  ship  the  cattle  to  Colorado  and  save  them,  he  said  he 
could  get  money  there  to  carry  us  through." 

Paddy  listened  thoughtfully.  "He's  roight  about  that," 
said  the  old  man.  "It  would  save  the  wakest  wans,  and 
lave  more  fade  for  the  sthrong  wans.  Don't  be  afther 
sayin'  anythin'  to  the  Boss,  Misthress  Thraynor,  but  yez 
know  Oi  have  some  money  put  away  handy,  and  if  the  Boss 
wants  to  borry  it  to  hilp  ship  his  cattle,  Oi'll  lind  it  to 
him.  Oi  've  got  the  money  from  the  sale  of  the  PL  Ranch, 
and  there's  a  few  more  dollars  ilsewhere  that  I  can  get 
widout  trouble.  The  Diamond  II  is  good  property  whin 
the  drouth  is  done,  and  Oi'm  not  afraid  of  losin'  the  prin- 
cipal wid  the  Boss.  Oi  niver  thrust  any  banks  becoz  they 
moight  go  boosted  any  toime."  Paddy  crammed  fresh  to- 
bacco in  his  pipe.  "Oi  kin  let  the  Boss  have  twenty-foive 
thousand  dollars  in  gold  if  he  wants  it.  Now  moind,  don't 
yez  till  him  onything,  but  lit  me  fix  it  up  my  own  way  wid 
him.  Oi'm  goin'  to  Willcox  airly  in  the  marnin',  Misth- 
ress Thraynor,  an'  whin  Oi  come  back  Oi'll  talk  wid  the 
Boss,  and  foind  out  whin  he  wants  the  money  ready." 

Nell  started  up,  but  Paddy  waved  her  back.  "Don't  yez 
begin  a  thankin'  me,"  he  commanded  fiercely,  "or  ilse  Oi 
won't  lit  him  have  a  dummed  cent!  It's  jist  a  matter  of 
business,  an'  Oi'll  charge  him  intherest,  all  roight.  Oi 
moight  as  well  be  makin'  intherest  on  my  money  as  to  be 
lavin '  it  buried  in  the  ground. ' ' 

He  held  out  a  grimy,  calloused  hand,  saying,  "Good 
noight,  Misthree  Thraynor.  Git  a  good  noight's  slape  and 
don't  worrit  ony  more.     Oi'll  say  that  the  Boss  has  what 


258  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

money  he  nades,  and  a  little  over,  so  that  you  and  the  bye 
can  go  to  Californy  for  a  while,  until  this  dry  spell  is  over. 
Thin  whin  the  rains  comes,  the  little  chap  will  be  afther 
eomin'  back  with  chakes  as  rid  as  thim  posies;"  and  he 
disappeared  through  the  door,  leaving  Nell  feeling  he  had 
carried  her  troubles  with  him. 

A  couple  of  hours  after  sunrise  the  next  morning,  Paddy 
riding  leisurely  along  the  roacl  from  the  Diamond  H  to 
Will  cox,  encountered  Limber  a  few  miles  out  of  town. 
Limber  had  ridden  from  the  Plot  Springs. 

After  the  usual  salutation,  Paddy  reined  his  grey,  gaunt 
horse  close  to  Peanut's  side,  leaned  over,  held  his  hand 
•cupped  about  his  mouth  and  with  a  glance  at  the  miles  of 
prairie  that  sheltered  no  eavesdropper,  the  old  Irishman 
whispered,  "Say,  Limber,  thar's  somewan  sleeperin'. 
Warkin'  on  the  PL  and  Diamond  II.  Oi  tould  the  Boss 
and  he's  goin'  to  warn  the  byes  to  look  out.  Oi  mebbe 
misthaken,  but  Oi've  got  an  idee  that  Glendon's  at  the  bot- 
tom of  it.  'Twon't  hurt  to  kape  an  oye  on  him  over  at  the 
Springs.     Goin'  back  soon?" 

"I  have  some  thing  to  attend  to  for  the  doctor.  He's 
up  to  Tucson  this  week,  "Limber  answered  as  they  unsad- 
dled their  ponies  at  the  Kest.  "I'm  goin'  to  the  Diamond 
H  tonight,  after  sundown.  It'll  be  cooler  then  and  give 
Peanut  a  good  rest." 

"  Oi '11  see  yez  before  yez  start. ' '  Paddy  had  reached  the 
gate  $ut*  turned  back,  ' '  Say,  Limber,  Oi  want  yez  to  pick 
out  a  noice  little  collar.  I  found  a  fawn  and  packed  it  in 
for  the  bye,  so  long  as  you're  goin'  to  the  Diamond  H, 
yez  can  take  it  along.  I  've  got  to  go  to  the  San  Pethro  for 
a  few  days." 

He  held  out  a  twenty-dollar  gold  piece,  which  Limber 
slipped  into  his  pocket. 

*  *  Say,  Paddy,  if  I  was  you  I  'd  put  my  dinero  in  a  bank. 
You  take  lots  of  chances,"  remonstrated  Limber  seriously. 
"Someday  you'll  go  to  your  cache  and  find  your  money's 
been  dug  up." 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  259 

"They'll  have  a  dummed  hard  toime  a  foindin'  it,"  re- 
torted Paddy  cunningly,  "and  a  dummed  harder  toime 
gettin'  away  wid  it,  for  Oi  kape  a  close  watch  on  it.  Oi'm 
figgerin'  on  makin'  a  loan  to  the  Boss,  so's  to  help  him  ship 
cattle.  Oi  got  thirty-five  thousand  dollars  put  away.  Oi 
ain't  no  Roekyfeller,  but  Oi've  got  enough  for  salt  pork 
and  frijoles  for  the  nixt  tin  years,  an'  Oi  don't  belave 
Oi'll  be  in  urgent  nade  of  thim  afther  that  toime.  If  the 
Good  Lard  thinks  Oi'll  pass  the  Inspection  Chute,  Oi'll 
be  fading  on  milk  an'  honey  widout  payin'  fer  it.  Oi'm 
siventy-six,  come  my  nixt  birthday." 

"Well,  your  money  will  be  safer  if  the  Boss  has  it," 
Limber  finished  the  conversation  as  he  turned  into  the 
store,  while  Paddy  walked  up  the  street,  stopping  to  speak  to 
people  he  knew.  Every  one  liked  the  old  fellow,  who  was 
noted  for  his  sobriety  and  honesty  as  much  for  his  peculiari- 
ties. He  was  passing  the  swinging  door  of  a  saloon  which 
had  none  too  savory  a  reputation,  when  Alpaugh,  the  Con- 
stable of  Will  cox,  who  was  also  the  Deputy  Sheriff  of  Coch- 
ise County,  called  to  him. 

' '  Hello,  Paddy !  Come  in  and  have  a  drink, ' '  he  invited 
cordially  slapping  the  old  man's  shoulder. 

"Ahl  roight,  Dick,"  was  the  reply,  "Oi'm  goin'  to  git 
somethin'  to  ate,  and  it  will  be  an  appytizer.  I  rid  from 
the  Diamond  H  this  marnin',  but  it  was  too  airly  for  break- 
fast whin  I  started  out. ' ' 

The  bar-tender  mixed  the  concoctions  ordered  and  set 
two  glasses  on  the  bar,  then  saying,  "I'll  be  back  in  a  min- 
ute," he  left  the  room  in  response  to  a  call,  leaving  Paddy 
and  Alpaugh  alone,  except  for  a  man  sprawled  across  a  table 
at  the  end  of  the  room. 

Paddy  looked  at  the  man.  "That  Glendon  is  always 
dhrunk,"  he  remarked  in  disgust.  "Pity  his  woife  don't 
loight  out  and  lave  him."  He  moved  nearer,  "Say,  Dick," 
he  whispered,  though  his  voice  carried  distinctly,  "Oi  think 
yez  had  betther  kape  an  oye  on  Thray-fingered  Jack,  Glen- 
don, Bentz  and  Burks.     Oi  run  into  them  last  wake  nigh 


260  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Glendon 's  place,  and  they  was  squattin'  on  the  ground 
drawin'  loines.  They  didn't  say  me,  but  they  was  talkin' 
about  the  Express  car  to  the  Jumpin'  Erog  Moines.  Oi 
don't  loike  the  looks  of  it." 

Alpaugh  glanced  at  him  sharply.  "Much  obliged, 
Paddy;"  he  replied.  "Did  you  speak  of  it  to  any  one 
else?" 

"Nary  a  sould,"  responded  Paddy. 

"Don't  tell  any  one  else,"  cautioned  Alpaugh. 

"Ahl  roight,  Dick;"  answered  Paddy,  lifting  the  glass 
to  his  lips.     "Here's  lookin'  at  yez." 

A  shot  pinged  through  the  air,  and  the  glass  fell  from 
Paddy's  fingers  as  he  tumbled  in  a  grotesque  heap  on  the 
floor.  Glendon,  holding  the  still  smoking  pistol,  sprang 
to  Paddy's  side  and  emptied  four  more  cartridges  into  the 
motionless  figure. 

Alpaugh  stooped  quickly,  breaking  the  buckskin  thong 
around  the  trigger  of  Paddy's  pistol,  and  threw  the  gun 
beside  the  dead  man. 

"He  didn't  know  you  and  Bentz  saw  him  out  there. 
Stick  to  self-defence,"  said  Alpaugh.  "Dead  men  tell  no 
tales,  and  the  damn  fool  knew  too  much." 

A  crowd  of  excited  men  filled  the  place  when  Limber 
came  running  in.  "Who  done  it?"  he  demanded,  looking 
around. 

"I  did,"  replied  Glendon,  facing  him;  and  Limber 
stepped  back  as  though  menaced  with  a  blow. 

"You—" 

' '  Yes !  Alpaugh  was  drinking  with  Paddy  when  he  turned 
on  me  without  any  warning,  and  I  shot  in  self-defence. 
The  old  man's  been  nutty  for  some  time,  and  had  it  in  for 
me  ever  since  we  had  trouble  at  the  corral  over  that  cow. 
If  you  don't  believe  me,  you  can  ask  Alpaugh.  He  saw  it 
all." 

Alpaugh  looked  at  the  faces  of  the  crowd,  and  knew  he 
must  keep  his  head  level,  for  Glendon  was  not  popular,  and 
Paddy  had  many  friends. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  261 

"I  saw  Paddy  going  past,  and  asked  him  in  to  have  a 
drink  with  me,"  said  the  constable  with  apparent  frank- 
ness. "Otto  mixed  the  drinks  and  went  back  to  the  end 
of  the  room,  and  Paddy  was  talking  to  me.  Glendon  was 
at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  but  got  up  and  started  to 
walk  over  to  us,  and  I  was  going  to  ask  him  to  have  some- 
thing with  us,  when  Paddy  saw  him  and  reached  for  his 
gun.  Glendon  had  to  shoot  quick  or  be  shot  himself.  The 
trigger  of  Paddy's  gun  caught  in  the  buckskin  loop  of  his 
holster,  or  else  he'd  got  Glendon  first.  That's  all  there  is 
about  it.  Paddy's  been  itchy  against  Glendon  for  some 
time.     Every  one  knows  that." 

He  turned  to  Glendon,  "  I  've  got  to  arrest  you,  Jim,  until 
after  the  inquest." 

* '  That 's  all  right, ' '  answered  Glendon,  then  he  saw  Lim- 
ber scrutinizing  him  sharply.  "Say,  Limber,  will  you  tell 
my  wife?     She's  expecting  me  home  tonight." 

Limber's  eyes  were  riveted  on  Glendon,  as  though  trying 
to  read  the  man's  thoughts.  "Yes,"  he  replied  curtly, 
turning  on  his  heel  and  walking  out  the  room  without  an- 
other word. 

"There's  something  crooked  in  back  of  it,"  he  muttered 
to  himself,  as  he  reached  the  Cowboys'  Rest  and  picked  up 
his  saddle.  Then  he  remembered  Paddy's  promised  as- 
sistance for  Traynor.  "No  one  knows  where  Paddy  hid 
his  money,  and  that  settles  the  Boss,"  he  stopped  to  pet  the 
nose  of  Paddy's  gaunt,  old,  flea-bitten  grey  horse,  which 
had  been  a  joke  with  every  one,  then  Limber  flung  his  sad- 
dle on  Peanut  and  mounted.  "Sometimes  it  looks  like  it 
don't  pay  to  be  square,  Peanut,"  he  said  as  the  little  pinto 
pony  headed  for  the  road  leading  to  the  Circle  Cross  Ranch. 


CHAPTER  TWENTY-NINE 

KATHERINE  sat  on  the  porch  of  her  home,  watch- 
ing the  road  that  led  to  town.  It  was  long  after 
six  o'clock  and  Glendon  had  promised  faithfully 
he  would  return  early  in  the  afternoon.  The  Circle  Cross 
herd  which  had  not  been  large  enough  to  pay  its  owner's 
debts  under  the  most  favourable  circumstances,  had 
dwindled  through  the  drouth  until  Glendon  refused  to  try 
to  save  what  was  left.  Juan  rode  out  alone  each  day,  doing 
the  best  he  was  able,  while  Glendon  puttered  about  the 
house  and  corral,  or  stretched  in  a  half-drunken  stupor  on 
the  couch  in  the  tiny  living-room.  Katherine  was  spared 
the  knowledge  that  Alpaugh  held  a  note  worth  more  than 
the  remnant  of  their  cattle  and  that  the  money  had  been 
used  by  Glendon  to  pay  several  gambling  debts,  as  well  as 
to  keep  Panchita  in  a  good  humour. 

Her  meditations  were  interrupted  as  Tatters  came  to  the 
porch  steps  and  thrust  his  moist  nose  into  her  hand. 

"What  do  you  think  is  wrong  this  time,  Tatters?"  she 
asked,  looking  down  at  the  dog's  intelligent  eyes.  Since 
Donnie  had  left,  the  woman  and  dog  had  been  drawn  to- 
gether by  their  mutual  longing  for  the  boy,  and  Katherine 
had  fallen  unconsciously  into  the  habit  of  talking  to  the 
collie. 

She  slipped  an  arm  about  the  shaggy  neck,  and  silently 
watched  the  twilight  deepen  into  darkness.  Juan  hovered 
anxiously  in  the  doorway,  and  tried  to  persuade  her  to  eat 
supper;  but  she  put  him  off,  saying  she  would  come  soon. 
A  foreboding  clutched  her;  she  had  no  desire  for  food. 
Shaking  his  head  dolefully,  the  Mexican  retreated  to  the 
kitchen. 

262 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  263 

Suddenly  the  dog  stiffened,  sniffed  the  air  and  gave  a  low 
growl.  Then  he  sprang  from  the  steps  and  ran  to  the  gate, 
where  he  squatted  down,  and  stared  sharply  at  the  road. 

Katherine  heard  the  faint  sounds  of  hoof  beats,  and  con- 
fident that  it  was  her  husband  returning,  she  hastened  to 
see  if  the  belated  supper  was  beyond  hope. 

There  was  a  knock  at  the  door.  Surprised,  she  turned 
to  open  it,  when  she  heard  a  man's  voice  speaking. 

"Don't  be  frightened,  Mrs.  Glendon.  It's  only  Limber, 
I  brung  a  message  for  you  from  Glendon." 

He  entered  the  room,  and  blinked  in  the  lamplight,  but 
Katherine,  seeing  the  expression  on  his  face,  was  not  de- 
ceived. 

"What's  the  matter?"  she  asked  quickly. 

Limber  hesitated,  cleared  his  throat  and  wondered  how 
it  would  be  best  to  tell  his  message.  All  the  way  he  had 
been  puzzling  what  to  say.  If  it  had  been  a  man,  or  any 
other  woman,  it  would  have  been  easier;  but  the  cow- 
puncher  shrank  from  adding  to  the  troubles  of  the  woman. 
It  was  like  striking  her. 

"Why — it's — just — don't  be  frightened,  Mrs.  Glendon," 
floundered  Limber,  and  cursed  himself  for  making  matters 
worse.     "It's  not  so  serious — " 

She  clutched  the  back  of  a  chair;  her  face  was  white, 
but  her  voice  steady.  ' '  Tell  me,  just  as  you  would  another 
man,  Limber.     I  won't  break  down.     Is  he  dead?" 

"Not  a  bit  of  it,"  replied  Limber  in  relieved  tones. 
"He's  all  right — well  as  I  am.  But  thar's  been  trouble  in 
town  and  Glen  shot  Paddy  Lafferty.  Dick  Alpaugh  seen 
it  and  says  it  was  self-defence.  So  Glen  will  be  acquitted 
all  right ;  but  he's  under  arrest  till  the  inquest.  He  wanted 
me  to  come  and  tell  you." 

Limber  repeated  the  meager  details,  avoiding  her  eyes  as 
much  as  possible,  and  watching  Tatters,  whose  head  he  was 
stroking  as  he  talked.  The  silence  became  oppressive  after 
he  ceased  speaking,  and  Limber  lifted  his  eyes. 

Katherine,    apparently    forgetful    of   his    presence,    sat 


264  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

staring  at  the  wall,  her  hands  twitching  nervously  at  her 
kitchen  apron.  Her  face  was  deathly  white.  Limber 
wished  she  would  cry,  though  he  dreaded  a  woman's  tears. 

" Don't  take  it  so  hard,  Mrs.  Glendon.  It's  just  a  matter 
of  form,  him  bein'  held.  Glendon  will  be  home  tomorrow 
night." 

"Did  you  see  him  kill  Paddy?"  her  eyes  searched 
Limber's,  forcing  the  reluctant  truth  from  his  lips  and 
telling  him  plainly  that  she  doubted  the  story  as  he  had 
told  it. 

"No,  Mrs.  Glendon.  I  got  thar  afterwards.  I  heard 
Alpaugh  say  what  happened.  He  was  there.  Then  Glen- 
don ast  me  to  come  and  tell  you.     That's  all  I  know." 

She  rose.  "Thank  you,  Limber.  I  understand.  It  was 
good  of  you  to  come  the  thirty-five  miles.  After  you  have 
supper  I  will  be  ready  to  go  back  with  you,  if  your  pony 
can  stand  the  trip.  Fox  is  the  only  horse  I  have  here,  Jim 
took  the  team  to  town." 

"Peanut  is  good  for  the  trip,"  asserted  Limber,"  but 
it  is  a  mean  ride  at  night  till  we  strike  the  flats.  Mebbe 
you'd  better  wait  till  mornin'  if  you  think  you'd  oughter 

go." 

"I  must  go  tonight;"  she  replied  and  Limber  made  no 
further  protest.  He  knew  the  tension  under  which  she 
laboured. 

Juan  insisted  that  she  make  an  effort  to  eat,  while  Limber 
swallowed  a  cup  of  coffee,  then  necessary  articles  in  a 
small  bundle  were  tied  to  her  saddle  as  Fox  and  Peanut 
rubbed  friendly  noses. 

The  old  Mexican's  heart  was  heavy  as  he  watched  them 
ride  away,  and  the  dog's  ears  drooped  dejectedly.  Out  on 
the  long  night  ride  the  ponies  swung  into  a  steady  lope. 
The  soft  breeze  fanned  the  cheeks  of  the  riders  like  a  cool 
spray.  A  young  moon  slipped  coyly  over  the  horizon. 
The  air  was  heavy  with  the  perfume  of  Yucca  that  even 
the  drouth  could  not  kill,  while  faint  and  sweet  came  th* 
lilt  of  a  mocking-bird. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  265 

Katherine  could  not  make  herself  believe  that  out  of  the 
beauty  and  peace  of  the  night  she  would  find  the  man  she 
had  sworn  to  'love,  honour  and  obey'  with  human  blood  on 
his  hands —  the  murderer  of  an  old,  defenceless  man  who 
had  done  many  an  act  of  kindness  for  her  and  her  boy. 

Once  she  turned  and  spoke.     "Where  is  he?" 

' '  In  the  hotel ; ' '  answered  Limber.  ' '  Alpaagh  has  charge 
of  him  till  the  inquest  is  over." 

They  rode  again  in  silence,  each  absorbed  in  thought 
until,  after  weary  hours,  the  lights  of  the  town  grew  visible. 
At  last  the  ponies  stopped  in  front  of  the  Willcox  Hotel. 
A  few  men  loitering  about,  stared  curiously  as  Limber 
helped  Katherine  from  her  saddle.  It  was  after  two  in  the 
morning.  The  by-standers  who  recognized  Mrs.  Glendon, 
lifted  their  hats  respectfully.  One  of  them  spoke  her  name. 
She  turned  her  dull  eyes  on  him.  Her  lips  moved  but  there 
was  no  sound.     The  man  understood,  and  choked  an  oath. 

Limber  untied  the  bundle  from  her  saddle,  and  she 
followed  him  stiffly  into  the  hotel,  shrinking  in  the  narrow, 
dimly  lighted  hallway  while  the  cowboy  made  arrangements 
with  the  sleepy  nightman. 

"Ill  take  you  up  to  the  room,"  said  Limber.  She 
nodded  silently. 

On  the  second  floor  the  cowboy  paused  at  the  door  and 
knocked. 

"Some  in!"  called  Glendon 's  voice. 

Limber  smiled  reassuringly  to  Katherine ;  then  he  turned 
and  left  her.  She  stood  biting  her  lips,  trying  to  control 
her  emotion,  and  holding  the  doorknob  in  a  nerveless  hand 
that  was  trembling  with  exhaustion. 

"What   the  blazes  is  the  matter?     Come   in,   I  say!" 

The  door  was  jerked  open  violently  and  Glendon  stood 
staring  at  his  wife.     An  oath  rose  to  his  lips. 

"What  brought  you  here?"  he  demanded  roughly. 

She  passed  into  the  room,  turned  and  held  out  her  hands 
to  him,  saying  simply,  "Where  else  should  I  be,  Jim,  when 
you  are  in  trouble  ?     I  thought  you  wanted  me  to  come. ' 


266  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

' 'Well,  I  didn't.  I  might  have  known  you'd  not  be  able 
to  resist  an  opportunity  to  twit  and  remind  me  how  you've 
begged  me  to  stay  away  from  town,  and  all  that  rot!  I 
only  asked  Limber  to  go  and  tell  you  what  had  happened, 
and  as  usual,  you  go  to  extremes  and  come  hiking  in  here 
in  the  middle  of  the  night.  You're  making  a  mountain 
out  of  a  mole  hill.  I  'd  been  home  by  this  evening.  There 
was  not  the  least  excuse  for  your  coming  here. ' ' 

Obeying  an  impulse,  she  moved  near  and  laid  her  hand 
on  his  shoulder.  He  shook  it  off  roughly  and  started  from 
the  chair  into  which  he  had  slumped. 

"For  God's  sake,  Katherine,  cut  out  that  rot!  I'm  sick 
of  your  saintly  pose,  and  I  don't  want  any  preaching  or 
praying.     I  had  to  shoot  Lafferty  or  be  shot  myself." 

"Was  it  self-defence,  Jim?" 

He  noted  the  undercurrent  of  doubt  and  ripped  out  an 
oath. 

"I  told  you  once,  and  I'm  not  going  to  keep  jabbering 
about  it  the  rest  of  the  night.  You  go  to  the  inquest  and 
hear  Alpaugh's  testimony,  as  long  as  you  don't  believe  me." 

He  strode  across  the  room  to  the  table  and  poured  out 
a  generous  glass  of  raw  whiskey,  which  he  followed  by  a 
second,  then  a  third,  and  at  last  threw  himself  on  the  bed. 
In  a  few  minutes  the  room  was  heavy  with  the  fumes  of 
liquor  and  noisy  with  snores  of  the  drunken  sleeper. 

Softly  Katherine  lifted  the  little  window,  and  let  the 
clean  pure  air  blow  across  her  face.  Somewhere  a  clock 
struck  three.  The  woman,  sitting  in  the  darkness,  stared 
with  dry  aching  eyes,  thinking  of  the  past,  wondering 
what  the  future  held.     It  was  like  looking  into  a  chasm. 

When  grey  dawn,  like  a  feeble,  sick  thing,  crept  through 
the  window,  Glendon  woke  refreshed  and  buoyant;  but 
his  wife  was  haggered  and  worn,  with  great  dark  rings 
under  her  eyes.  Her  husband  looked  at  her  critically,  con- 
trasting her  with  the  flamboyant  attractions  of  Panchita. 

"Can't  you  fix  yourself  up  a  bit?"  he  demanded  in 
aggrieved  tones.     "You're   losing  your  good  looks   com- 


THE  LONG  DIM   IRAIL  267 

pletely.  Anyone  would  take  you  for  twice  your  age.  Lot 
of  good  you  do  me,  coming  here  with  your  glum  face ! ' ' 

She  made  no  reply,  which  added  to  the  anger  he  vented 
by  kicking  a  chair  out  of  his  way.  Glendon's  hand  shook 
as  he  poured  out  a  drink  of  liquor  to  steady  his  nerves, 
while  Katherine  opened  the  parcel  she  had  brought  with 
her,  laying  out  his  razor,  a  clean  shirt  and  collar.  His 
clothes  were  creased  and  rumpled,  as  he  had  slept  all  night 
in  them.  Then  she  picked  up  a  small  pitcher  and  went  in 
search  of  hot  water.  She  finally  obtained  it  from  the 
Chinese  cook  in  the  kitchen,  for  the  hotel  bragged  no  bell- 
boys or  bells. 

The  inquisitive  glance  of  the  Chinaman  and  a  Mexican 
whom  she  passed  at  the  kitchen  door,  brought  to  her  the 
full  realization  of  the  ordeal  she  was  facing.  If  she  could 
only  believe  that  her  husband  had  acted  in  self-defence, 
she  would  stand  unshaken  beside  him,  defying  the  entire 
world;  but  she  could  not  make  herself  credit  his  story. 
Always  when  he  had  tried  to  deceive  her,  some  subtle 
instinct  betrayed  him  to  her.  Through  the  night  she  had 
reiterated  again  and  again,  "It  was  self-defence,"  but 
louder  and  louder  a  chorus  of  voices  kept  whispering  in 
her  ears,  ' '  He  is  lying !     It  was  murder ! ' ' 

She  seized  the  pitcher  of  water  from  the  Chinaman's 
hand  and  hurried  up  stairs  to  her  room.  Glendon  accepted 
her  services  as  a  matter  of  course,  proffering  no  word  of 
thanks. 

Half  an  hour  later  Alpaugh  knocked,  and  the  three  went 
to  the  hotel  dining-room  for  breakfast.  Glendon's  appe- 
tite was  excellent.  Alpaugh  and  he  talked  casually,  occa- 
sionally interjecting  a  joke;  but  the  food  choked  Glendon's 
wife,  and  with  a  feeling  of  relief  she  rose  and  returned 
to  the  bedroom  followed  by  her  husband.  Alpaugh,  as  a 
matter  of  form,  hovered  at  the  entrance  of  the  hotel. 

"The  inquest  is  at  nine,"  said  Glendon  as  they  entered 
their  room.  "It's  half-past  eight  now,"  he  consulted  his 
watch. 


268  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Jim,"  she  hesitated,  "I  think  I  will  stay  here  in  the 
room.     I'm  not  feeling  quite  well  this  morning." 

He  looked  at  her  and  a  sullen  rage  consumed  him.  He 
realized  that  she  was  not  deceived  by  his  story. 

"Going  to  shirk  it,  eh?"  he  asked  sneeringly,  "Well, 
you  will  have  to  come,  that's  all  there  is  to  it.  Look  fine 
for  me  when  everyone  knows  you  rode  here  last  night  and 
then  hid  away  just  at  the  time  when  you,  or  any  decent 
wife,  should  stand  by  a  man.  That  would  be  enough  to 
condemn  any  one  in  my  fix. ' ' 

It  was  not  that  he  desired  her  company;  but  he  was 
aware  that  her  presence  would  have  its  influence,  in  case 
anything  should  upset  Alpaugh's  testimony.  The  bar- 
tender might  have  seen  more  then  they  thought;  besides 
there  was  no  telling  what  unexpected  snag  might  be  struck 
during  the  inquest.     Paddy  had  many  staunch  friends. 

As  these  thoughts  beset  him,  Glendon  looked  at  his  wife. 
' '  Well,  are  you  going  to  stand  by  me,  or  not  ? ' ' 

Her  reply  was  to  pick  up  her  hat  which  she  adjusted. 
As  he  opened  the  door,  she  said  imploringly,  "It  was  self- 
defence,  wasn't  it,  Jim?" 

"Good  God,  Katherine,  you  will  drive  me  mad!  I 
said  it  once.  Now  you  can  listen  to  Alpaugh  and  make  up 
your  mind  about  it  as  you  please.     Stop  nagging  me." 

Without  further  conversation,  husband  and  wife  accom- 
panied Alpaugh  to  the  little  office  of  the  Justice  of  Peace, 
where  the  inquest  was  to  be  held.  A  group  of  men  at  the 
entrance,  glanced  peculiarly  at  Glendon;  then  their  ex- 
pressions changed  as  they  saw  the  woman  at  his  side. 
Glendon  was  quick  to  notice  this  and  congratulated  him- 
self that  Katherine  was  with  him.  With  assumed  solici- 
tude he  led  her  to  a  chair  and  stood  silently  beside  her, 
his  eyes  on  her  bowed  head,  until  the  proceedings  began. 

The  inquest  fully  exonerated  Glendon,  as  the  bar-tender 
had  not  seen  what  occurred  and  Alpaugh  was  the  only  actual 
witness.  The  broken  buckskin  thong  was  admitted  as  proof 
that  Paddy  had  drawn  his  gun,  thus  making  it  impossible 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  269 

for  any  jury  to  bring  in  a  verdict  against  Glendon.  There 
were  many  witnesses  to  the  quarrel  at  the  shipping-corral, 
when  Paddy  had  refused  to  shake  hands  with  Glendon  after 
the  latter  had  apologized  to  him ;  and  as  no  one  had  heard 
Glendon  utter  any  threats  against  Paddy,  there  was  ap- 
parently no  motive  except  that  of  self-defence.  On  the 
other  hand,  the  old  Irishman  had  often  expressed  his  dis- 
like for  Glendon. 

As  soon  as  the  verdict  was  rendered,  Glendon  was  sur- 
rounded and  congratulated  by  Bentz,  Three-fingered  Jack, 
Burks  and  Alpaugh.  With  smiles  and  light  words  he 
shook  their  hands;  but  other  men  exchanged  glances  and 
left  the  room,  talking  in  subdued  voices. 

Katherine  saw  the  doubt  in  many  faces,  and  shrank 
at  the  reflection  of  the  fear  in  her  own  heart.  Glendon 's 
callous  indifference,  his  careless  air,  revealed  her  husband 
in  a  new  and  hideous  light. 

With  trembling  limbs  she  made  her  way  to  his  side, 
placing  her  hand  on  his  arm.  He  looked  down  in  surprise, 
and  an  expression  of  annoyance  crossed  his  face.  He  had 
completely  forgotten  his  wife's  presence  and  had  been 
about  to  suggest  to  the  crowd  that  drinks  were  in  order 
at  the  most  convenient  place. 

She  realized  it  all,  and  wished  that  she  had  remained  at 
the  ranch.  "Jim — I  don't  feel  very  well.  Will  you  take 
me  to  the  hotel?" 

He  shrugged  his  shoulders,  but  remembering  others  were 
watching,  answered,  "Yes."  Husband  and  wife  moved 
side  by  side  toward  the  door. 

"See  you  later,  Glen,"  said  Three-fingered  Jack,  and 
Alpaugh  added:     "You're  not  going  out  today,  are  you?" 

Katherine  looked  up.  Glendon,  with  a  sudden  sense  of 
shame,  replied;  "I'll  go  back  with  my  wife  this  afternoon 
when  it  gets  cooler,  but  I'll  see  you  both  before  I  leave 
town." 

Her  eyes  were  grateful.  Glendon,  conscious  of  a  halo 
of  self-importance  and  good  intentions,  walked  down  the 


270  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

street,  speaking  to  passers-by,  though  many  of  them  re- 
sponded only  in  deference  to  the  woman  at  his  side. 

As  they  passed  along  the  street,  several  men  standing  in 
front  of  the  post  office,  watched  them  disappear  into  the 
hotel. 

"Glen's  turned  over  a  new  leaf,"  observed  one  of  them. 

"  'Twon't  last  very  long.  New  leaves  are  awful  tender. 
They  get  torn  mighty  quick,"  laughed  another. 

"It'd  been  all-fired  excitin'  if  Panchita  had  been  in 
town.  There 'd  been  fur  flyin',  and  I  bet  Glendon  would 
have  vamoosed  and  let  'em  fight  it  out  to  a  finish.  You  can 
get  a  rise  outen  Panchita  any  time  you  speak  about  Mrs. 
Glendon." 

"If  it  ever  comes  to  a  show  down  between  'em  I  bet  on 
the  Mexican  girl  for  a  winner.  She's  got  the  inside  track 
sure.     Glen's  wife  is  too  high-headed  to  win  the  race." 

None  of  them  noticed  Limber  pausing  close  by  as  he 
heard  Mrs.  Glendon 's  name.  The  cowboy's  eyes  glinted, 
his  lips  were  compressed  and  his  hands  clenched. 

"I  ain't  so  sure  about  Mrs.  Glendon  losing  the  race," 
retorted  the  first  speaker.  "I  noticed  that  Glen  quit 
prancing  mighty  quick  when  his  wife  slipped  the  halter 
over  his  head  and  led  him  off  to  the  home  pasture!" 

The  burst  of  laughter  that  greeted  this  witticism  was 
hushed  suddenly,  as  Limber  broke  through  the  group  and 
faced  them  with  blazing  eyes. 

"You  are  a  fine  bunch  of  things  to  call  yourselves  men! 
You  fellers  ain't  fit  to  wipe  the  dust  off'n  Mrs.  Glendon 's 
shoes,  let  alone  takin'  her  name  on  your  dirty  tongues. 
The  feller  what  makes  any  more  remarks  about  her  has 
got  me  to  fight  just  as  soon  as  I  hear  his  name.  If  there's 
any  one  here  that  don't  like  what  I  say,  he  knows  what  he 
kin  do" 

Limber  waited  a  reply,  but  the  thoroughly  abashed  men 
were  silent,  and  the  cowboy  stalked  away. 

When  he  was  well  out  of  hearing,  one  of  the  men,  a  recent 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  271 

arrival  in  Arizona,  uttered  an  oath,  "I  ain't  goin'  to  stand 
for  that  sass  from  nobody/'  he  blustered. 

Another  man  grabbed  his  arm.  "Look  here!  You  ain't 
been  very  long  in  this  section  and  you  won't  be  here  very 
long  if  you  think  you  can  put  it  over  Limber.  He's  the 
best  pistol  shot  in  the  Territory." 

"And  you'd  have  as  much  chance  against  him,"  warned 
another  bystander,  "as  a  jackrabbit  would  have,  if  it  smelt 
the  cork  of  a  whiskey  bottle  and  then  got  brash  and  slapped 
a  bull-dog  in  the  jaw." 

"Go  ahead  and  try  it,  if  you  want  to,"  commented  the 
third  man,  "We  haven't  had  a  funeral  'round  here  for 
some  time  now.  It'd  liven  things  up  a  bit  for  all  of  us — 
except  yourself." 

The  new-comer  looked  after  Limber's  figure  with  respect- 
ful eyes. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY 

WHEN  Nell  heard  the  news  of  Paddy's  death  she 
felt  she  had  lost  a  sincere  friend.  As  her  eyes 
rested  on  the  door  she  seemed  to  see  the 
wrinkled  face  with  a  strangely  softened  look,  and  hear  his 
voice  saying,  "Good  noight,  Misthress  Thraynor.  Git  a 
good  noight 's  rist  and  don't  worrit  any  more."  Poor  old 
Paddy!  How  little  they  dreamed  of  the  long  rest  he 
would  find  the  next  night. 

She  was  glad  that  she  had  obeyed  his  injunction  not  to 
let  her  husband  know  anything  of  the  promised  loan  until 
Paddy  himself  should  speak  of  it.  Her  silence  had  saved 
Allan  from  indulging  in  plans  that  could  not  now  be  carried 
out.     Everything  seemed  more  hopeless  than  ever. 

Doctor  Powell  had  been  trying  to  secure  a  loan  through 
friends  in  the  east,  in  order  to  assist  Traynor  to  ship  some 
of  his  stock;  but  his  efforts  had  been  fruitless,  so  far,  and 
a  letter  told  them  that  he  was  going  to  Los  Angeles  to  see 
if  anything  could  be  done  there. 

The  stage-driver  who  delivered  Powell's  letter,  brought 
the  little  collar  that  Paddy  had  commissioned  Limber  to 
buy  for  the  fawn.  The  cowboy  had  scribbled  a  few  words 
explaining  that  the  gift  came  from  Paddy.  Jamie  was 
delighted.  They  did  not  tell  him  that  his  old  friend  was 
dead. 

A  week  after  Paddy's  death,  Nell  stood  picking  a  few 
withered  leaves  from  the  geranium  in  the  window,  and  her 
tears  fell  on  the  brilliant  red  flowers.  She  stared  out  the 
window,  wondering  why  those  who  tried  to  do  right,  found 
life  the  hardest. 

A  gaunt  calf  stumbled  weakly  and  fell  near  the  fence, 

272 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  273 

making  no   effort  to   rise,   as   though  understanding  the 
futility  of  struggling  any  longer. 

"Oh,  it  is  horrible!"  she  cried,  turning  away  that  she 
might  not  see  the  dying  convulsions  of  the  animal. 

She  felt  the  drouth  was  a  living,  relentless  thing,  wrap- 
ping its  coils  about  them  all,  men  and  brutes  alike,  choking 
and  crushing  the  very  heart  of  the  universe.  Unnerved  by 
constant  anxiety  over  the  sick  child,  the  worry  of  the 
drouth,  and  the  shock  of  Paddy's  death,  she  fell  sobbing 
to  her  knees  beside  the  couch  where  the  boy  lay  asleep, 
breathing  heavily,  his  cheeks  burning  with  fever. 

In  the  distance  a  strange  haze  had  formed.  It  moved 
slowly  and  majestically  nearer,  gradually  growing  thicker 
— first  a  misty  grey,  then  changing  to  a  black  velvety  cur- 
tain, dropping  straight  down  from  sky  to  earth.  Creeping 
stealthily,  it  turned  to  a  brilliant  red  hue  that  looked  as 
if  it  were  dripping  with  fresh  blood,  a  colour  that  stung 
the  eyeballs  until  one  put  up  a  hand  to  shut  out  the  grew- 
some  sight.  Its  hot  breath  crawled  into  the  lungs  and 
stifled  one;  licked  the  face  and  fanned  the  hair.  Then 
with  diabolic  menace  the  colour  changed  to  an  inky  black- 
ness, while  high  above  rose  the  edge  of  the  pall.  Tipped 
with  grey  and  white  it  bellied  out  like  the  crest  of  an 
enormous  black  wave  that  seemed  to  poise  a  second  before 
hurling  itself  to  the  earth.  Cattle  bellowed  and  tramped 
frantically  beside  the  fences,  trying  to  escape  the  dry 
scorching  air,  as  with  a  great  swirl  and  deep  suction,  like 
a  mighty  sob,  the  dust  storm  enveloped  the  ranch. 

Although  it  was  three  o  'clock  in  the  afternoon  the  rooms 
were  dark  enough  to  need  lights.  The  rays  from  the  jets 
filtering  through  the  misty,  moving  clouds  of  dust,  looked 
weird  and  uncanny.  Every  window  was  tightly  closed; 
the  air  was  stifling.  Jamie  moaned  and  moved  his  head 
restlessly  as  Nell  sat  fanning  him.  Slowly  the  dust  sifted 
through  the  windows  and  under  the  doors,  settling  on  every 
thing,  until  the  pillow  under  the  child's  head  became  grey 
and  finally  brown.     For  two  terrible  hours  the  storm  lasted 


274  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

in  all  its  fury,  then  a  faint  gleam  of  light  slowly  turned 
from  grey  to  liquid  gold,  and  Nell  ran  to  raise  the  windows 
and  let  in  the  fresh  air. 

The  window  sash  was  warped  and  stubborn ;  the  woman 
excited,  and  in  her  anxiety  something  caught  on  the  flower- 
box.  With  an  impatient  exclamation  she  hauled  the  heavy 
box  nearer  the  edge  of  the  wide  window-sill,  and  then  lean- 
ing forward,  she  forced  up  the  sash. 

A  wave  of  fresh,  pure  air,  tinged  with  a  peculiar  odour, 
filled  the  room.  As  Nell,  panting  from  her  exertion,  leaned 
against  the  ledge,  there  was  a  sudden  crash,  and  the  box  of 
geraniums  lay  wrecked  at  her  feet.  Something  else  lay 
there.  Shining  gold  in  twenty  dollar  pieces — Paddy's 
legacy  to  Jamie. 

She  stared  stupidly  a  moment,  then  clutched  at  the  gold 
pieces.  They  showered  from  her  hands  as  she  lifted  and 
kissed  the  coins  passionately.  This  would  mean  life  and 
happiness  for  Allan  and  Jamie. 

A  strange  rumble  startled  her.  Then  came  the  sound 
of  a  frightful  crash,  the  rush  of  hurrying  feet,  and  the  door 
was  flung  open  as  Traynor  dashed  in. 

"Look— look,  Nell!  Rain!  Rain!  Rain!  Thank  God! 
We  are  saved!" 

The  deafening  roar  of  the  storm  almost  drowned  his 
voice  as  the  rain  beat  on  the  corrugated  iron  roof  and 
flooded  the  court. 

Then  he  saw  the  box  and  the  scattered  gold.  While  the 
storm  shrieked  and  flooded  the  country,  making  great  run- 
ning streams  of  the  dry  prairie,  Nell  told  her  husband  of 
the  secret  she  had  held  with  Paddy. 

She  slipped  down  on  the  floor,  lifting  the  coins  into  her 
lap,  and  counted  them  slowly.  "Twenty-five  thousand 
dollars!"  she  exclaimed,  and  the  last  gold  piece  fell  with 
a  tinkle  like  laughter,  as  though  old  Paddy,  standing  by, 
invisible,  were  chuckling  at  his  joke. 

"Poor  old  Paddy!"  said  Traynor,  "We  none  of  us 
understood  the  old  chap  except  you  and  Jamie.     You've 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  275 

been  a  plucky  little  woman,  and  now  the  rains,  and  this 
legacy  of  Paddy's,  everything  is  coming  out  right!"  Nell 
picked  up  the  broken  geranium  and  held  it  against  her 
lips.     "God  bless  you,  Paddy!"  she  said. 

She  rose  to  her  feet  and  her  husband  slipped  an  arm 
around  her  waist  as  they  stood  together  at  the  long,  French 
window,  looking  out  at  the  glorious  rain,  while  Paddy's 
gold  lay  shining  at  their  feet. 

All  night  the  rain  fell  in  torrents,  and  then  for  the  follow- 
ing weeks,  each  day  brought  its  storm,  filling  the  ditches 
and  watering  places  in  the  flats  and  mountains,  while  the 
cattle  scattered  over  the  ranges  instead  of  crowding  in  the 
few  spots  where  there  was  water. 

The  worst  drouth  in  the  history  of  Arizona  was  over. 


CHAPTEE  THIRTY-ONE 

DOCTOR  POWELL,  who  had  returned  from  Los 
Angeles    a   few    days   previously,    was   following 
Chappo  about  the  garden  after  supper,  praising 
the  flowers  the  little  Mexican  had  planted  and  cultivated 
with  such  success.     Limber,  coming  from  the  stable  after 
a  final  visit  to  see  that  the  horses  were  all  right  for  the 
night,  noticed  a  rider  on  the  road  from  the  Circle  Cross. 
"Juan  is  coming,"  announced  the  cowpuncher. 
Powell  turned  quickly.     "I  hope  nothing  is  wrong." 
They  walked  toward  the  gate.     Juan  dismounted,  slipped 
the  reins  over  his  pony's  head  and  held  a  note  to  Powell, 
saying,  "From  La  Seiiora.     El  Senor  Glendon  is  seek." 

The  doctor  hastened  into  the  house,  lighted  a  lamp  and 
read; 

Dear  Doctor: 

Will  you  come  back  with  Juan  ?  My  husband  is  ill.  He 
had  a  severe  chill,  but  is  now  in  a  stupor  and  I  cannot  rouse 
him.  I  do  not  know  what  is  the  matter.  Please  hurry,  for 
I  am  much  alarmed. 

Sincerely  yours, 

Katheeine  Glendon. 

Powell  returned  to  the  porch  and  questioned  Juan,  who 
told  him  Glendon  had  not  been  well  for  a  couple  of  days  and 
had  refused  to  allow  his  wife  to  consult  the  doctor  as  she 
had  wished  to  do. 

Hurriedly  packing  what  medicines  he  thought  might  be 
necessary,  while  Chappo  saddled  a  horse,  Powell  explained 
the  situation  briefly  to  Limber  and  set  out,  Juan  at  his 
side,  for  the  Glendon  ranch. 

276 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  277 

Katherine  was  at  the  door  when  he  dismounted  and 
handed  the  reins  of  his  horse  to  Juan. 

' '  Oh,  I  am  so  glad  you  have  come ! ' '  she  exclaimed.  ' '  I 
don  't  know  what  is  the  matter.  I  have  never  seen  him  this 
way  before.     Usually  I  know  what  to  do  for  him." 

She  led  the  way  into  the  bedroom,  as  she  spoke,  and 
Powell  noted  the  unconscious  revelation  in  her  words. 
Glendon  lay  on  the  bed,  his  red  congested  face  and  re- 
laxed sensual  lips  adding  to  a  bestial  appearance.  The 
doctor  drew  a  chair  to  the  bedside  and  lifted  the  limp, 
heavy  hand  from  the  coverlet,  then  he  leaned  down  and 
placed  his  ear  against  Glendon 's  chest.  Slowly  the  seconds 
ticked  away.  The  doctor  leaned  back  and  studied  the 
dissipated  countenance,  while  Katherine  waited  at  the 
foot  of  the  bed. 

"Is  it  serious?"  she  asked  anxiously. 

"Pneumonia,"  replied  Powell  gravely.  "I  will  have  to 
be  frank,  Mrs.  Glendon.  He  has  wrecked  a  fine  constitu- 
tion. The  heart  is  in  bad  condition  from  drinking.  Alco- 
holism and  pneumonia  combined  leave  very  slight  chance 
for  recovery  in  this  altitude." 

"I  understand  that,"  answered  Glendon 's  wife,  "but 
there  is  a  fighting  chance,  isn't  there?" 

"Yes — a  fighting  chance,  nothing  more.  His  heart  is 
weak.  When  the  crisis  comes  it  may  stop,  or  it  may  re- 
spond to  treatment  and  rally  sufficiently  to  go  on.  That 
is  the  one  chance  for  him  to  pull  through. ' ' 

As  Powell  turned  again  to  his  patient,  she  asked  very 
quietly,  "Is  there  anything  I  can  do  " 

"Bring  a  spoon,  glass  of  fresh  water,  and  some  strips  of 
flannel,  if  you  have  them?" 

She  hurried  away,  and  returned  in  a  few  minutes. 

"That's  good,"  approved  the  doctor,  as  she  laid  the 
neatly  rolled  flannel  bandages  on  the  table  beside  him  and 
arranged  the  tumbler,  spoon  and  pitcher  of  water  where 
he  could  reach  them  conveniently.  "Heat  that  camphor- 
ated oil,  please." 


278  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

She  followed  his  instructions  and  watched  him  saturate 
the  flannel,  which  he  slipped  around  Glendon 's  chest  and 
across  his  back  with  the  deftness  and  gentleness  of  a  woman. 
Then  he  drew  the  coverlet  smoothly  and  looked  at 
Katherine's  pale  face. 

"You  had  better  get  a  little  rest/'  he  said.  "I  will 
stay  here  until  the  crisis  is  past.  Take  this,"  he  com- 
manded, preparing  a  mixture  in  the  glass  and  holding  it 
out  to  her. 

Katherine  swallowed  the  contents  of  the  tumbler,  while 
Powell  added,  "You  have  a  couch  in  the  other  room?  Ill 
call  when  it 's  necessary.  There  is  nothing  you  can  do  now, 
and  you  must  save  your  strength  all  you  can." 

The  reaction  from  three  days  of  anxiety  and  responsi- 
bility aided  the  sedative  in  bringing  sorely  needed  mental 
and  physical  relaxation.  The  door  leading  into  the 
sitting-room  was  open,  and  after  a  short  interval  the  doctor 
moved  softly  to  satisfy  himself  that  she  was  sleeping.  A 
chill  was  creeping  through  the  house.  He  went  to  the  bed- 
room and  lifted  an  extra  coverlet  from  the  foot-board  of 
the  bed,  and  carried  it  to  the  other  room.  The  light  from 
the  bed-room  fell  upon  her  face  and  throat,  and  as  the 
doctor  carefully  placed  the  coverlet  over  her,  he  saw  dark 
bruises  against  the  pallor  of  the  skin.  In  repose,  the  lines 
of  suffering  were  revealed  plainly,  and  the  pathetic  droop 
of  the  mouth  like  that  of  a  sorrowing  child.  Through  her 
half-parted  lips  he  heard  the  quivering  sound  of  a  sup- 
pressed sob.  He  gazed  at  her,  a  world  of  love  and  pity  in 
his  eye,  then  he  glanced  through  the  open  door  at  the  man 
who  lay  on  the  bed. 

Slowly  the  doctor  returned  to  the  chair  at  the  bedside, 
he  leaned  over  and  looked  at  Glendon  intently.  The  crisis 
was  not  very  far  off.  Powell  studied  the  heart  action,  took 
count  of  the  pulse,  then  his  eyes  went  to  the  medicine  on 
the  table.  No  sound  except  the  ticking  of  the  clock  and 
the  stentorian  breathing  of  Glendon  broke  the  silence.  In 
the  other  room  Katherine  slept  quietly.     The  doctor's  eyes 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  279 

did  not  move  now  from  the  face  of  the  man  on  the  bed. 
The  pulse  beats  were  growing  weaker.  Powell's  hand 
reached  toward  the  medicine,  paused  a  second,  then  with- 
drew and  fell  heavily  in  his  lap.  Moments  went  by,  and 
still  the  woman  in  the  other  room  rested  quietly ;  the  man 
on  the  bed  drifted  more  closely  to  the  whirlpool  of  Eternity, 
and  the  man  beside  the  bed,  with  white  face,  tightly  set 
mouth  and  eyes  like  smouldering  flame,  sat  waiting.  Once 
the  doctor  rose  and  walked  softly  back  and  forth  across  the 
room,  the  hands  clasped  behind  him  were  bruised  by  the 
nails  that  cut  into  the  flesh.  On  the  mantel  of  the  living 
room  was  a  picture  of  Donnie.  The  child's  eyes  looked 
into  his  own,  they  followed  him  as  he  moved  about. 

Powell  returned  to  the  bed  and  sank  into  the  chair,  then 
his  face  was  burried  in  his  hands.  With  a  quick  movement 
he  roused  himself  and  watched  Glendon  steadily.  At  last 
he  turned  slowly  to  the  table  and  grasped  the  vial.  He 
held  it  before  him  and  looked  once  again  at  Glendon,  but 
this  time  the  doctor's  eyes  were  untroubled. 

Slowly  and  carefully  he  poured  a  few  drops  of  the  fluid 
that  would  drive  the  sluggish  blood  to  the  heart  that  had 
almost  ceased  to  beat.  Slowly  it  responded.  Then,  in  the 
silence  of  the  night  Powell  began  his  battle  to  save 
Katherine  Glendon 's  husband.  Dawn  like  a  shadowy  grey 
wolf,  crawled  over  the  tops  of  the  Galiuros  and  slipped 
down  into  the  Hot  Springs  Canon.  The  cragged  peaks 
were  bathed  in  sunlight  as  Powell  looked  at  them,  his  face 
drawn  and  haggard,  his  eyes  weary,  but  in  his  heart  a 
prayer  of  thanksgiving  and  a  plea  for  strength  to  carry 
on  his  battle  without  faltering. 

A  slight  noise  at  the  door  caused  him  to  turn.  Katherine 
came  swiftly  to  his  side. 

"How  is  he?"  she  asked  eagerly. 

"Rallying  perfectly.  The  crisis  is  past  for  the  present. 
Unless  something  unexpected  occurs,  we  shall  pull  him 
through. " 

"Why  didn't  you  call  me?"  asked  Katherine. 


280  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"You  needed  the  rest,"  he  replied.  "Though  the 
danger  point  is  almost  over,  you  will  have  a  long  seige  of 
nursing  that  will  tax  your  utmost  strength.  I  shall  remain 
here  until  I  am  reasonably  sure  he  is  safe,  and  then,  you 
can  take  charge.  Do  you  know  how  to  use  a  thermometer 
or  take  a  pulse  ? ' ' 

"Yes.     Doctor  King  taught  me  that." 

"Then  you  can  manage  as  well  as  though  you  had  a 
trained  nurse  here.  But,  remember!  You  must  conserve 
your  strength.  That  is  rule  number  one  for  a  nurse.  It 
is  inflexible.     Understand?" 

"I  promise  to  do  exactly  what  you  say,"  she  replied. 
"Now  I  am  going  to  get  your  breakfast  and  a  good  strong 
cup  of  coffee  will  be  ready  very  soon. ' ' 

Glendon  continued  to  improve  during  the  day,  and 
Powell's  vigilance  never  relaxed.  Katherine  relieved  the 
doctor  for  a  few  hours  at  a  time.  When  a  week  had  elapsed 
without  developing  unfavourable  symptoms,  Glendon  was 
pronounced  practically  out  of  danger.  The  doctor  knew 
his  own  weakness  now,  and  with  his  patient  on  the  road  to 
recovery,  Powell's  antagonism  to  the  man  returned  with 
greater  intensity.  Yet,  as  the  doctor  rode  home  he  deter- 
mined that  as  soon  as  Glendon  was-  well  enough,  he  would 
try  to  awaken  any  shred  of  decency  that  might  be  dormant 
in  the  husband  of  Katherine  Glendon,  the  woman  whom 
Powell  loved. 

The  professional  calls  continued  several  weeks,  but 
Powell  and  Katherine  only  met  in  the  room  where  Glendon 
lay  weak  and  thoroughly  frightened,  for  Powell  impressed 
upon  Glendon  the  seriousness  of  his  physical  condition  and 
the  inevitable  result  of  continuous  drinking,  which  had 
weakened  his  heart.  Glendon 's  promises  to  reform  were 
genuine.  Another  month  went  past.  An  awkward  re- 
straint had  grown  gradually  between  Katherine  and  the 
doctor,  and  though  he  flayed  his  conscience,  he  could  find 
no  reason  for  it.  As  days  went  by,  it  became  unbearable 
torture  for  him  to  see  her  in  her  home  with  Glendon,  and 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  281 

yet,  it  was  still  harder  to  resist  the  temptation  to  go  there. 
Finally  Powell  determined  to  leave  the  Springs,  and  Chappo 
a  week  later  carried  a  note  to  Katherine. 

Dear  Mrs.  Glendon; 

I  shall  be  at  the  Diamond  H  ranch  for  a  month,  after 
which  time  I  am  leaving  Arizona  for  an  indefinite  period, 
on  business  pertaining  to  the  plans  for  the  Sanitarium. 
Limber  and  Chappo  will  be  at  the  Springs  all  the  time,  so 
do  not  hesitate  to  call  on  them  should  you  require  assistance 
at  any  time  or  in  any  way. 

With  my  sincere  regards  for  your  husband  and  yourself, 

Most  cordially  yours, 

Cuthbert  Powell. 

Katherine  read  the  note  in  her  room.  Her  eyes  blurred 
with  sudden  tears.  Now  that  Powell  had  gone  out  of  her 
life,  thoughts  that  she  had  held  in  restraint,  rushed  across 
her  like  angry  animals  breaking  their  leashes.  She  saw 
with  unblinded  eyes  the  hideousness  of  her  life,  the  hope- 
lessness of  the  future,  for  during  the  past  few  days  Glendon 
had  started  again  to  drink. 

The  note  trembled  in  her  fingers,  a  tear  dropped  on  it 
and  her  heart  was  sick  with  despair.  She  understood  at 
last  the  meaning  of  the  courage,  the  peace  that  had  come 
into  her  life,  and  she  knew  that  she  could  go  on  to  the  end 
that  she  might  purify  her  love  for  Powell,  by  the  flame  of 
sacrifice. 

As  the  note  blazed  up  in  the  fireplace,  then  died  to  a 
quivering  grey  mass,  she  lifted  her  face  to  the  tall  peaks 
that  bent  over  the  canon,  and  their  strength  seemed  to 
reach  out  to  her. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-TWO 

WITH  the  breaking  of  the  drouth,  Jamie  seemed 
to  acquire  fresh  vitality,  and  by  the  time  the 
grass  covered  the  valley  he  was  able  to  take 
short  rides  on  his  pony,  carefully  guarded  from  over- 
exertion by  Limber  and  Doctor  Powell.  Under  their  united 
care  the  little  patient  gained  additional  strength.  They 
all  hoped  that  the  crisis  might  be  successfully  tided  over. 

One  day  when  Limber  and  Jamie  had  returned  from 
their  ride,  the  cowpuncher  accosted  Traynor  in  the  stable, 
while  unsaddling  the  ponies. 

"Thar's  goin'  to  be  a  sale  of  Government  horses  at  Fort 
Grant  tomorrow,  and  maybe  I'd  better  go  an'  look  'em 
over. ' ' 

' '  Good  idea, ' '  assented  the  Boss.  l '  Better  get  over  early 
and  size  them  up  before  the  bidding  commences." 

Early  the  next  morning  Limber  reached  the  garrison  and 
made  his  way  to  the  Quartermaster's  Corral  where  the 
horses  destined  for  sale  were  tethered.  Frequently  good 
horses  could  be  gotten  cheaply  at  such  sales,  because  of 
blemishes  that  rendered  them  unfit  for  Cavalry  use,  yet 
did  not  interfere  with  other  work.  Only  a  perfect  horse  was 
reckoned  a  match  for  the  ponies  of  the  Apaches. 

Limber  selected  two  animals,  then  stood  watching  the 
sales.  He  noticed  with  surprise  that  no  one  was  bidding 
on  a  big,  handsome  sorrel  with  cream  mane  and  tail  and 
eyes  that  were  alight  with  intelligence.  The  slender  legs 
and  tapering  ears  showed  heritage  of  racing  blood. 

The  cowboy  examined  the  animal,  but  there  was  no  sign 
of  blemish.    Puzzled,  he  watched  inferior  horses  put  up 

2S2 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  283 

and  sold  after  lively  bidding;  but  no  one  made  an  offer 
on  the  sorrel,  that  watched  the  other  horses  with  evident 
interest  that  was  almost  amused  curiosity.  Limber  liked 
the  horse,  somehow. 

" What's  he  condemmed  for?"  asked  Limber  of  a  soldier 
who  stood  near  him. 

" Unmanageable.  Breaks  rank,  won't  face  with  the 
other  horses,  dances  when  he  ought  to  stand  still,  and  runs 
like  the  Devil,  everytime  they  line  up  in  parade.  He's 
racing  stock.  A  dandy  horse,  alright,  but  too  high-lived 
for  Cavalry  work,  and  they  can't  break  him  in  to  it.  He's 
got  more  sense  than  any  other  horse  in  the  troop,  but  after 
they  punished  him  a  few  times,  he  got  to  fighting  every 
time  a  saddle  was  put  on  his  back." 

Limber  remembered  several  excellent  horses  at  the  Dia- 
mond H  that  had  been  more  unpromising  material.  "When 
he  went  back  to  the  ranch  after  the  sale,  he  led  the  big 
sorrel  horse,  intending  to  handle  it  himself. 

Jamie  was  in  the  stable  when  Limber  arrived,  and  the 
horse  leaned  out  its  graceful  neck  until  its  nose  touched 
the  child's  shoulder.  A  sudden  thought  struck  Limber. 
The  horse  had  been  used  to  children,  evidently,  at  some 
period  of  its  life. 

"Go  get  some  sugar,"  said  Limber  to  Bronco,  and  when 
he  returned,  Limber  handed  a  lump  of  sugar  to  the  child. 
"See  if  he  will  take  it  from  you."  Jamie  held  out  the 
sugar,  and  Gov'ner,  with  a  little  nicker,  took  it  carefully 
from  the  boy's  hand.  After  repeating  the  operation  several 
times,  the  boy  moved  slowly  away,  holding  out  his  hand, 
and  the  horse  followed  him,  threading  gingerly  between 
the  buggies,  around  the  men,  and  receiving  his  reward. 

Traynor  and  Nell  came  out  to  watch  them,  and  Gov'ner 
condescended  to  make  friends  with  the  woman,  also,  but 
flatly  refused  to  accept  sugar  from  any  of  the  men.  He 
plainly  showed  his  preference  for  the  child,  and  Traynor 
laughed  as  he  said, 

"He  has  no  use  for  any  one  but  you,   Jamie.     He's 


284  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

your  horse  from  now  on ;  but  you  must  not  ride  him  until 
Limber  says  that  it  will  be  all  right. ' ' 

So  for  days  Gov'ner  was  educated,  gently  and  kindly, 
and  always  with  the  child  near  by.  At  first  the  boy  was 
placed  on  the  animal's  back,  while  it  was  led  about  the 
barn.  After  that,  Limber,  mounted  on  Peanut,  led  Gov'ner 
on  the  road  at  a  walk,  while  Jamie  talked  to  the  horse  or 
patted  the  shining  neck.  Not  once  was  there  any  indica- 
tion of  fractiousness  on  the  part  of  Gov'ner.  A  child's  love 
and  kindness  had  conquered  where  discipline  had  failed. 

Mornings,  when  the  day's  work  on  the  range  was  light, 
Gov 'nor  would  be  led  out  and  the  minature  cowboy  saddle 
placed  on  his  back.  Neatly  coiled  and  tied  to  the  saddle 
was  a  beautifully  made  riata,  the  gift  of  Bronco,  who  was 
noted  for  his  skill  in  making  these  ropes.  When  the  child- 
ish figure  appeared,  equipped  with  leather  leggings  and 
tiny  spurs,  there  would  be  a  sharp,  joyous  yelp  from  Dash, 
the  leader  of  the  greyhound  pack,  and  an  answering  call 
as  Killem,  Catchem,  Scrub  and  Beauty  came  leaping 
in  delight,  knowing  there  were  rabbits  and  coyotes  to 
chase. 

Fong  shuffled  out  with  a  lard-pail  slipped  into  a  flour 
sack,  which  he  carefully  tied  to  the  little  saddle,  with  the 
smiling  information,  "Clake  and  clookies."  Then  Nell 
kissed  the  boy  good-bye,  saying,  "Take  good  care  of  him, 
Limber;"  and  the  man,  turning  in  his  saddle  would  reply, 
"Don't  you  fret,  Mrs.  Traynor.  We  all  look  out  for  the 
Kid." 

In  the  evening,  the  cowpuncher,  dwindling  to  a  tiny 
white-robed  figure,  crawled  into  Nell's  arms  as  she  sat  in 
front  of  the  big,  "comfy"  fire-place,  to  tell  her  about  the 
baby  calves,  and  how  many  rabbits  had  been  chased. 
Once,  with  shining  eyes  and  flushed  cheeks,  how  "Me  and 
Limber  roped  a  coyote — but  we  let  it  go  home  again  to 
its  fambly — 'cause  I  told  Limber  I  knew  they  would  be 
waiting  for  it  to  come." 

One  day  Jamie  did  not  come  out  to  Gov 'nor 's  stall,  and 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  285 

the  horse  whinnied  in  vain.  The  men  went  around  speak- 
ing softly,  taking  off  their  spurs  to  avoid  any  possible  noise 
on  the  board  floor  of  the  stable,  and  Doctor  Powell  never 
left  the  bedside  of  the  darkened,  quiet  room,  where  he 
battled  for  the  life  of  the  child  they  loved  so  deeply. 

"You  had  better  take  him  and  Mrs.  Traynor  to  Los 
Angeles, "  the  doctor  advised  Traynor.  "She  is  breaking 
down  under  the  long  strain,  and  in  her  condition  needs 
care  as  much  as  the  boy.  I  will  go  with  you  and  stay  as 
long  as  I  can  be  of  any  assistance." 

"Do  you  think  there  is  any  hope  for  him?"  asked  Tray- 
nor. 

"A  child's  life  is  a  bit  of  delicate  mechanism,"  answered 
Powell,  ' '  even  when  all  hope  was  lost,  I  have  seen  wonder- 
ful rallies.  Not  through  the  skill  of  a  physician,  but 
through  some  peculiar  recuperative  power  we  don't  under- 
stand, as  yet." 

Traynor  wrung  the  doctor's  hand  silently. 

Arrangements  for  the  trip  were  completed,  the  trunks 
and  luggage  loaded  on  the  heavy  wagon  had  already  started 
for  Willcox.  As  Traynor  assisted  Nell  into  the  carriage, 
Gov 'nor,  poking  his  head  from  the  box  stall,  wondering 
what  it  was  all  about,  saw  Limber  carry  a  limp  little  figure 
from  the  courtyard  into  the  stable.  The  horse  recognized 
the  boy  and  whinnied  joyously.  Jamie  lifted  his  head  and 
spoke  to  Limber,  who  carried  him  over  to  the  horse. 
Gov  'ner  's  nose  reached  out  and  the  thin  little  hand  stroked 
it  weakly. 

"Good-bye,  Gov 'ner,"  came  the  faint  voice.  "Limber 
will  be  good  to  you  till  I  come  home.     Won't  you,  Limber?" 

Limber's  face  twitched  as  he  answered,  "No  one  shall  ride 
Gov  'ner  whilst  you  are  gone,  Kid. ' ' 

After  the  carriage  disappeared  and  the  men  had  gone 
about  the  various  duties  of  the  day,  Fong  shuffled  into  the 
barn  and  looked  around  cautiously.  Seeing  no  one,  he 
sneaked  into  the  saddle  room  and  picked  up  a  shiny  little 
lard  pail,  that  had  once  been  used  to  hold  cookies.     Clutch- 


286  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ing  it   tightly   the    Chinaman   ran  swiftly  across  to   the 
kitchen,  and  shut  the  door  with  a  bang. 

Limber,  who  had  been  saddling  Peanut,  unobserved  by 
Fong,  witnessed  the  incident,  and  when  evening  came,  the 
cowboy  knew  it  was  not  opium  that  caused  the  Chinaman's 
red-rimmed  eyelids. 

Gov'ner  was  very  lonely  in  the  stables  and  pastures  all 
day  when  the  other  horses  were  busy,  and  at  first  he  called 
incessantly.  Then  finding  that  it  brought  no  response  from 
the  child  he  loved,  he  stood  patiently  watching  the  door 
that  led  into  the  court. 

Letters  came  from  Traynor  saying  that  they  were  win- 
ning the  battle,  and  that  Jamie  would  come  back  to  them 
better  than  ever  before  in  his  life.  Then  came  another 
letter  which  Limber  read  with  a  choking  voice,  for  Traynor 
told  the  boys  of  the  Diamond  H  that  they  now  had  a  new 
Boss,  and  that  the  little  mother  was  well,  happy,  and  sent 
her  love  to  them  all.  That  she  said  they  were  "all  her 
boys,"  and  she  would  not  be  satisfied  until  she  got  back 
home  again  and  showed  them  the  wonderful  baby.  Tray- 
nor added  that  Doctor  Powell  would  be  home  that  week, 
but  the  rest  of  them  would  not  return  for  another  month. 

Fong,  on  a  hunt  for  eggs,  passed  through  the  stable  as 
the  letter  was  finished,  and  Limber  called  him  to  tell  him 
the  news.  The  old  Chinaman's  eyes  filled  up  with  tears 
that  streamed  down  his  face.  "Klid  he  comme  home  all 
light ;  new  blaby  clommee  allee  samee.  "When  he  dome  ? 
I  blake  a  cake ! ' ' 

That  night  the  Mail  Order  catalogue  was  the  centre  of 
attraction  in  the  bunk-house,  and  for  hours  the  index  and 
illustrations  were  scanned  in  search  of  a  suitable  gift  for 
the  new  Boss.  Saddles,  spurs,  chaps  were  debated  as  not 
quite  fit  articles  for  immediate  use,  as  the  recipient  would 
be  about  two  months  old  when  he  reached  the  Diamond 
H.     In  a  quandary  they  hunted  up  Fong. 

The  old  Chinaman  bristled  with  importance  and  put  on 
the  horn  spectacles  that  made  him  resemble  a  reincarnated 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  287 

Confucius.  Slowly  and  critically  he  squinted  at  the  cata- 
logue, then  a  "smile  that  was  child-like  and  bland"  ex- 
panded his  face,  while  his  long-nailed  finger  pointed 
triumphantly. 

"You  clatchee  him.     He  all  light  for  blaby." 

They  stared  at  the  illustration,  gazed  blankly  at  Fong 
and  then  looked  again  at  the  book. 

"What's  it  for?"  demanded  Bronco. 

"No  savey?  Blimeby — blaby  clatchee  teeth!"  Fong 
gave  a  vivid  impersonation  by  chewing  the  end  of  a  fork 
which  he  seized. 

"I  guess  that's  o.k.  so  far  as  it  goes,"  Roarer  endorsed, 
"but  we've  got  to  get  somethin'  else.  That's  too  durned 
measly. ' ' 

Once  again  they  studied,  suggested,  rejected,  and  finally, 
in  the  hours  approaching  dawn,  the  order  sheet  was  filled 
out.  The  articles  enumerated  ranged  from  the  teething- 
ring  and  rattle,  a  baby  buggy,  a  high  chair,  silver  mug,  one 
pair  silver-mounted  spurs,  one  silver-mounted  bit,  a  small- 
sized  saddle,  bridle  and  a  gold  bracelet  "for  a  lady"  that 
was  to  be  inscribed  ' '  from  the  boys  of  the  Diamond  H. "  A 
letter  explained  the  circumstances  and  eventful  arrival,  and 
asked  if  the  head  of  the  store  would  take  special  care  with 
the  order,  and  pick  out  a  nice  bracelet,  as  they  were  all  cow- 
punchers  and  didn't  know  anything  but  cows, — perhaps  the 
store-keeper  might  get  his  wife  to  pick  out  the  right  sort 
of  bracelet. 

Two  weeks  later  they  received  word  that  their  order  had 
been  carefully  filled,  and  a  handsome,  plain  gold  bracelet 
inscribed  as  desired  had  been  forwarded,  together  with  the 
other  articles  in  their  esteemed  order. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-THREE 

THE  morning  that  Traynor  was  due  at  the  ranch  with 
his  family,  the  men  and  Fong  were  up  long  before 
daybreak.  Inside  and  out,  the  ranch  had  been 
scrutinized  mercilessly,  to  see  if  everything  was  in  perfect 
order.  Fong's  pigtail  jerked  like  an  expiring  rattlesnake, 
as  he  rushed  here  and  there,  putting  the  final  touches  to  a 
meal  which  was  to  be  the  culinary  achievement  of  his  life. 

When  the  carriage  was  finally  driven  into  the  stable,  the 
men  crowded  around,  talking  and  laughing,  asking  ques- 
tions but  not  waiting  replies,  until  Traynor  piloted  his  wife 
and  baby  into  the  house;  Jamie  lingered  with  his  friends. 

There  was  a  joyful  reunion  between  the  child  and  the 
greyhounds  which  had  been  shut  in  the  corral.  Then,  sur- 
rounded by  the  leaping,  yelping  pack,  Jamie  and  the  men 
turned  to  Gov'ner's  stall.  The  door  was  opened  by  Lim- 
ber, and  they  all  stood  waiting  till  Jamie  called  to  the 
horse,  "Gov'ner!     I'm  back  home  again!" 

Gov'ner's  head  flung  up  alertly,  his  nostrils  distended, 
his  eyes  shone;  then  as  he  saw  the  little  chap  outside  the 
stall  the  horse  whinnied,  tossed  his  head  and  pranced 
through  the  door.  The  proud  head  lowered  as  the  horse 
reached  the  child,  and  the  lips  nipped  playfully  at  Jamie's 
coat,  while  the  boy  laughed  in  delight,  petting  the  satiny 
neck,  as  he  said  triumphantly,  "You  see,  he  didn't  forget 
me  while  I  was  away." 

It  was  a  new  Jamie  that  had  come  back  to  them.  For 
sometime  Powell  had  been  studying  the  cause  of  the  boy's 
retarded  recovery,  and  had  finally  concluded  it  was  due 
to  other  reasons  than  the  tubercular  tendency.  He  had 
not  suggested  this  to  Traynor  until  consultation  with  two 

288 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  289 

noted  specialists,  had  confirmed  his  diagnosis.  After  the 
operation  which  was  found  necessary,  the  lad's  improve- 
ment was  astonishing ;  so  when  he  reached  the  Diamond  H, 
nothing  more  was  necessary  than  outdoor  life  in  the  high, 
dry  climate  and  plenty  of  nourishing  food,  to  make  him  a 
normally  healthy  boy. 

Traynor  joined  the  boys  as  they  watched  the  reunion  of 
Gov'ner  and  the  child.  Then  he  asked,  "Don't  you  boys 
intend  to  come  in  and  meet  the  new  Boss  and  his  mother? 
They're  expecting  you." 

Without  hesitation  the  men  followed  him  into  the  living 
room  where  the  young  mother,  with  the  baby  on  her  lap, 
waited  the  homage  she  knew  would  be  accorded  freely  by 
these  loyal  friends. 

Cautiously  they  all  approached  and  regarded  the  small 
atom  of  humanity  that  gazed  back  at  them  with  serene 
eyes. 

"Feel  how  heavy  he  is,"  offered  Nell,  holding  the  in- 
fant toward  them.  Each  one  shrunk  back  a  bit  and  their 
eyes  shifted  to  each  other. 

"Take  him,  Bronco.     He  won't  bite;"  laughed  Nell. 

Bronco  edged  back  of  Limber,  as  he  replied,  "Limber's 
the  foreman.     He's  got  the  first  throw!" 

Limber's  arms  went  out,  and  the  little  mother  laid  the 
child  carefully  upon  them,  fussing  with  the  dainty  white 
dress,  and  smiling  down  into  the  baby  face  against  the  blue 
flannel  shirt.  As  she  stepped  back,  she  caught  a  passing 
expression  on  Limber's  face,  and  her  eyes  grew  misty. 
Though  he  did  not  know  it,  she  glimpsed  Limber's  soul  in 
that  moment. 

The  baby  blinked  up,  then  a  quivering,  uncertain  little 
smile  touched  his  lips. 

"Gee!  Look  at  him,"  ejaculated  Bronco.  "Say,  he's 
made  friends  with  Limber  already.  Isn't  he  the  smart  lit- 
tle geezer,  though?" 

Gaining  courage  the  rest  of  the  men  pressed  closer,  and 
Bronco  put  out  a  horny  finger  to  touch  the  pink  palm. 


290  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Like  the  leaves  of  a  sensitive  plant,  the  fingers  curled 
tightly  around  the  cowboy's  digit,  then  pulled  determinedly 
toward  a  puckering  mouth,  while  Bronco's  eyes  opened  in 
consternation. 

"Say,  you  don't  want  to  eat  me,  do  you?  That  ain't 
a  stick  of  candy!"  he  pulled  gently  but  firmly  until  he  man- 
aged to  rescue  the  threatened  finger,  and  the  other  men 
chuckled  in  unison. 

"Ain't  he  got  a  dandy  grip !  He'll  be  able  to  hang  onto 
a  steer  when  he  gets  it  roped,  you  bet!"  Roarer's  squeak 
asserted. 

"Smartest  baby  I  ever  seen,"  Holy  pronounced  oracu- 
larly, ignoring  the  fact  that  it  was  the  first  time  in  his 
life  he  had  ever  been  near  a  young  baby. 

Fong  hovered  in  the  doorway,  and  as  they  looked  up  they 
saw  a  cake  with  gorgeous  white  icing.  It  was  Fong's  only 
way  of  expressing  his  fealty  and  congratulations.  He  de- 
posited the  cake  on  the  table,  and  Nell  beamed  on  him. 

"We'll  make  baby  cut  his  own  cake,  Fong!"  Then  she 
turned,  "Limber,  won't  you  call  Allan?" 

Traynor  joined  them,  and  the  entire  outfit  stood  in  ad- 
miration, while  Nell  held  the  tiny  hand  about  the  big 
butcher  knife  and  thrust  it  into  the  heart  of  the  lacy 
design  of  icing.  Fong's  eyes  blinked  rapidly,  and  he  kept 
saying,  over  and  over,  "Velly  fline  blaby !  Him  velly  fline 
bloy!" 

Once  again  Traynor  brought  champagne,  and  the  glasses 
were  lifted  as  he  gave  the  toast,  "To  the  Boss  of  the  Dia- 
mond II  and  his  mother.     God  bless  them  both  ! ' ' 

After  that  Nell  got  the  teething-ring,  and  when  the  child 
grasped  and  thrust  it  into  its  open  mouth,  the  men  all 
grinned.  "He  sure  knows  what  that  is  made  for," 
chortled  Bronco,  "an'  that's  more  'n  we  knowed  till  Fong 
tol'us.' 

They  bombarded  Nell  with  questions  regarding  his 
weight,  how  sooh  he  would  acquire  real  teeth,  and  how 
long  before  he  would  be  wearing  trousers.     They  were 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  291 

thirsting  for  information  regarding  infantile  development, 
and  when  Roarer,  in  an  off-hand  manner,  referred  to  his 
"sister's  twins  in  Texas,"  they  looked  at  him  with  envious 
eyes.  Roarer  did  not  disclose  that  said  twins  were  almost 
as  old  as  himself.  He  dilated  on  various  events  in  their 
careers,  which  lie  remembered  hearing  the  aforesaid  twins 
relate  themselves.     He  cudgeld  his  brain  for  historic  data. 

The  boys  were  feeling  very  much  at  home,  when  the 
baby  began  to  squirm  uneasily  in  its  mother's  arms.  Its 
face  screwed  up,  its  eyes  squinted  and  disappeared  entirely, 
and  the  boys  looked  anxiously  at  Nell. 

"Does  he  have  fits?"  inquired  Bronco  solicitiously.  "I 
know  its  all  right  for  puppies  to  have  'em,  but  does  babies?" 

The  infant  answered  for  himself  with  a  sneeze,  and  Nell 
looked  around  at  the  open  window.  This  gave  the  men  an 
excuse  to  plead  work,  and  tiptoe  from  the  room. 

Once  in  the  stable  they  halted,  and  Bronco,  still  seek- 
ing information,  faced  Roarer.  "Say,  Roarer,  did  your 
sister's  twins  in  Texas  have  fits?" 

"Sure,"  answered  Roarer  cheerfully.  "They  was  so 
uster  havin'  'em  that  we  never  paid  no  attention  at  all 
when  one  come  on.  It's  just  like  puppies,  you  know. 
'Twouldn't  be  noways  natural  if  thar  wasn't  fits — an'  fleas. 
Don't  do  no  hurt.  Jest  look  at  all  the  people  that  lives  to 
grow  up,  anyways ! ' ' 

But  that  night  Roarer  borrowed  the  big  book,  tellingr 
"How  to  be  Your  Own  Doctor,"  which  was  the  Court  of 
Final  Appeal  for  everything  from  cooking  recipes  to  get- 
ting rid  of  bedbugs,  lawsuits  and  other  worries,  together 
with  a  complete  list  of  the  "ills  to  which  the  human  flesh 
is  heir,"  and  infallible  remedies  for  all. 

The  men  did  not  know  that  he  was  studying  assiduously 
every  bit  of  data  obtainable  regarding  the  diseases  of  in- 
fants. They  wondered  afterwards  at  Roarer's  unfailing 
supply  of  information  about  babies,  well  or  ill;  but  he 
ascribed  his  knowledge  entirely  to  his  associations  with  the 
Texas  Twins. 


292  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Once  more  the  interrupted  routine  of  ranch  life  was  re- 
sumed and  Limber  divided  his  time  between  the  Diamond 
H  and  the  Hot  Springs.  Though  the  cowpuncher  passed 
the  Circle  Cross  at  intervals  he  never  dismounted.  Chappo 
and  Juan  kept  in  touch  with  each  other,  and  through  them 
Limber  and  Powell  knew  that  Glendon's  wife  found  life 
more  bearable  since  the  anxiety  about  Donnie  had  been  re- 
moved. Yet  she  never  suspected  the  part  that  Doctor 
Powell  and  Limber  had  taken  in  forcing  Glendon's 
acquiescence  to  her  wishes  and  plans  for  the  boy. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FOUR 

UNLIKE  most  ranches  in  Arizona,  the  Diamond  H 
cultivated  a  number  of  its  fenced  fields.  Millet, 
sorghum  and  other  cattle  feed  was  stacked  for 
use  of  the  horses  and  the  thoroughbred  bulls  during  winter, 
thus  insuring  first-class  condition  of  this  particular  stock 
when  the  grass  started  and  they  were  turned  out  on  the 
open  range.  This  system  of  Traynor's  avoided  losing  time 
that  would  be  otherwise  required  to  put  his  bulls  in  good 
breeding  condition  each  spring. 

During  the  plowing  season,  the  blacksmith  at  the  Dia- 
mond H  suddenly  decided  to  leave  for  parts  unknown,  be- 
tween sunset  and  sunrise.  The  cowboys  were  all  able  to 
shoe  their  own  ponies,  but  tires  had  to  be  set,  tools  sharp- 
ened, plowpoints  kept  in  shape ,  pumping  machinery 
needed  constant  repairing,  and  a  first-class  blacksmith  was 
a  necessity  on  the  Diamond  II.  Willcox  could  not  fill  the 
vacancy,  and  advertisements  in  Tucson  and  even  Los 
Angeles  papers  brought  no  response.  Each  of  the  men  on 
the  ranch  had  done  the  best  he  could  to  fill  the  void,  but  all 
acknowledged  ruefully,  ''it's  a  durn  sight  different  from 
jest  shoein'  a  pony." 

In  this  emergency  Loco,  the  Mexican  who  had  obtained 
work  at  the  Diamond  II  after  leaving  Walton,  announced 
that  he  had  been  a  blacksmith  in  Mexico. 

"Well,  he  can't  do  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  us,"  Bronco 
decided,  but  one  day's  trial  proved  Loco  was  first-class  in 
that  work,  and  so  he  was  transferred  from  range  work  to 
the  blacksmith  shop  with  increased  pay  and  additional  re- 
spect. 

293 


294  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

He  was  pounding  a  red-hot  iron  on  the  anvil  one  day, 
when  Traynor  sauntering  to  the  entrance  of  the  shop,  stood 
watching  him. 

"How  soon  will  you  be  ready  to  start,  Loco  f "  he  asked. 

"In  a  few  minutes  I  will  finish,  Senor." 

"What  is  it?"  Traynor  asked  idly. 

Without  looking  up  the  Mexican  replied ;  "  It  is  a  brand- 
ing iron,  Senor." 

He  skillfully  bent  the  end  of  the  iron,  thrust  it  into  a  tub 
of  water  for  a  couple  of  seconds,  then  withdrew  and  ex- 
amined it  critically,  after  which  he  heated  it  again.  It 
was  a  peculiarly  shaped  iron,  and  Traynor  dropped  on  a 
box  and  looked  with  interest,  as  Loco  pressed  it  on  a 
board,  leaving  a  mark  covering  a  space  four  inches  each 
way. 

o-o 

x      x 

"That's  an  odd  brand,"  said  Traynor,  picking  up  the 
burnt  board  and  scrutinizing  it,  while  the  Mexican  re- 
garded him  closely. 

"It  is  my  horse  brand,"  explained  Loco.  "Apache  is 
leg  weary  and  I  am  going  to  turn  him  on  the  range  a  while. 
I  bought  another  horse." 

1 '  There  are  plenty  good  horses  in  the  herd  without  using 
your  pony,  Loco." 

The  Mexican  shook  his  head;  "Many  thanks,  Senor,  but 
I  can  do  better  work  with  my  own  horse." 

"Well  suit  yourself;"  Traynor  agreed  carelessly.  "I 
want  you  to  go  with  me  this  morning  to  Mud  Springs,  so 
I  can  show  you  where  I  want  the  ditch  dug  and  the  mill  put 
put  up.' 

Loco  was  studying  the  iron  with  the  smile  of  an  artisan 
who  recognizes  a  satisfactory  piece  of  work.  "I  will  get 
the  horses,  Senor ; "  he  said,  and  turned  to  the  stable  carry- 
ing the  branding  iron  in  his  hand. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  295 

If  Apache,  Loco's  pony,  was  leg-weary,  it  was  not  very 
evident  as  it  pranced  and  danced  along  the  road  beside  gay 
little  Chinati,  whose  swift  movements  had  earned  his  name, 
"Blackbird."  Mud  Springs  lay  twelve  miles  away  from 
the  Diamond  H,  in  the  Galiuros  toward  Hot  Springs.  The 
trail  through  Mud  Springs  was  not  often  used,  as  the  Box 
Springs  trail,  a  few  miles  further  north,  was  more  direct 
and  also  much  easier.  It  was  a  wild,  desolate  place  and  the 
spring  in  a  narrow,  rocky  canon,  so  cattle  preferred  the 
valley  during  the  grass  season.  This  spring  was  of  great 
value  to  the  Diamond  H  and  PL  ranges,  however,  giving 
cattle  access  to  feed  in  the  mountains  that  otherwise  would 
be  too  far  from  water.  Traynor,  having  learned  wisdom 
from  the  drouth,  had  decided  to  build  a  huge  reservoir  at 
the  mouth  of  this  canon  for  the  storage  of  water  that  would 
otherwise  be  wasted  by  spreading. 

He  explained  the  details  carefully  to  Loco,  pointing  out 
where  the  ditch  was  to  be  dug  to  conduct  the  water  to  the 
reservoir  site. 

"I  want  the  wind-mill  put  up  beside  the  reservoir,  like 
the  one  at  the  house.  I  '11  get  the  boys  at  work  next  week ; 
but  you  can  go  on  with  the  mill  work  before  then.  I  am 
going  over  to  Hot  Springs  for  a  few  days." 

"How  long  did  you  live  in  Mexico,  Seiior?"  asked  Loco. 
"I  have  never  been  there,"    answered  Traynor,  wonder- 
ing at  the  question. 

"Only  Americanos  who  have  lived  in  Mexico  speak  as 
you  do,"  persisted  Loco. 

"I  learned  Spanish  at  college,"  replied  Traynor.  "By 
Jove!     What  a  shot!     It's  too  far  for  a  pistol!" 

He  was  gazing  up  at  a  magnificent  blacktail  deer  which 
stood  like  a  statue  on  a  ledge  six  hundred  feet  above  them. 
Its  head  was  thrown  back,  nostrils  dilated,  the  slender  legs 
were  tense  and  ready  for  flight  as  it  sniffed  the  wind. 
Then  with  a  snort,  it  whirled  and  vanished. 

Traynor  had  been  so  absorbed  in  admiration  of  the  buck 
that  he  had  momentarily  forgotten  Loco's  presence.     The 


296  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Mexican,  fifteen  feet  in  the  rear  of  Traynor  had  untied 
the  riata  which  hung  on  his  saddle  and  coiled  it  cautiously, 
watching  the  other  man  sharply.  With  a  swift  movement 
he  flung  the  rope  about  Traynor 's  body,  pinioning  his 
arms  firmly.  Chinati,  feeling  the  jerk  on  his  bridle,  leaped 
forward  and  Traynor  fell  helpless  to  the  ground. 

The  sun  was  setting  when  Traynor  again  became 
conscious  of  his  surroundings  and  saw  Loco  standing  over 
him. 

"What  happened,  Loco?"  he  asked  stupidly.  "Was  I 
thrown?" 

Loco  made  no  reply,  and  as  Traynor  still  dazed  from  a 
deep  gash  on  his  head,  tried  to  rise,  he  realized  that  he 
was  securely  bound,  hand  and  foot.  The  loss  of  blood  made 
him  faint  and  sick,  and  his  brain  seemed  incapable  of  lucid 
ideas.  He  had  struck  his  head  on  a  sharp  rock  in  falling 
from  his  horse. 

For  a  while  he  lay  with  closed  eyes,  then  he  looked  up 
and  saw  Loco  a  short  distance  away,  gathering  pieces  of 
dead  wood,  which  he  heaped  systematically  into  a  pile. 
Traynor  recalled  the  Mexican's  peculiar  ways  and  wondered 
if  the  man  had  suddenly  become  insane.  He  knew  that  if 
such  were  the  case,  the  best  plan  would  be  to  avoid  irritat- 
ing him. 

Traynor  turned  his  head.  The  hope  that  Chinati  had 
gotten  away  and  might  give  the  alarm  by  returning  to  the 
ranch  riderless  died,  when  he  saw  his  own  pony  standing 
quietly  beside  Loco's.  Then  he  noticed  his  pistol  glistening 
a  few  feet  from  him,  and  wondered  if  he  could  worm  his 
way  to  it  without  attracting  Loco's  attention.  Keeping 
close  watch  upon  the  Mexican,  Traynor  slowly  writhed 
toward  the  firearm  until  he  was  within  a  foot  of  it.  By 
half  turning  he  believed  he  could  grasp  the  pistol  as  his 
hands  were  tied  in  front  of  him.  Loco  lit  the  fire,  and 
with  a  fiendish  grin  untied  the  branding  iron  from  his 
his  saddle  and  laid  it  on  the  flame. 

A  thrill  of  sickening  fear  shot  through  Traynor  as  he 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  297 

strained  at  the  rope  binding  him.  One  more  effort  and  he 
would  be  able  to  touch  the  pistol.  The  Mexican  calmly 
arranged  the  wood  which  had  fallen,  then  walked  over  to 
Traynor,  who  closed  his  eyes,  hoping  to  throw  the  man  off 
his  guard;  but  Loco,  with  a  malicious  leer,  picked  up  the 
pistol  and  seated  himself  on  the  ground  beside  his  captive. 

"I  saw  you,  Sefior;"  he  chuckled. 

"What  are  you  going  to  do,  Loco?"  asked  Traynor,. 
trying  to  appear  unconcerned.  He  now  understood  that 
he  was  at  the  mercy  of  a  maniac,  and  thought  what  a  fool 
he  had  been  to  forget  the  many  irrational  actions  of  the 
man,  whose  name,  Loco,  should  have  been  warning  enough 
in  itself.  The  loco  weed  of  Arizona  and  Mexico  effects  the 
brains  of  horses,  causing  even  the  most  reliable  and  well- 
broken  animal  to  develop  sudden  fits  of  viciousness.  Loco's- 
moodiness,  his  outbursts  of  anger,  had  fastened  the  nick- 
name on  him  while  he  worked  for  Walton. 

Loco  rolled  a  cigarette,  which  he  lighted  deliberately. 

"  So !  You  have  not  been  in  Mexico,  Senor  ? "  he  drawled 
sarcastically. 

"Never!  I  have  no  object  in  lying  abont  it;"  said 
Traynor  earnestly.     "Why  should  I  deny  it?" 

"Oh,  no,  Senor!     You  never  knew  Ramoncita?" 

"I  never  heard  of  her."  Then  catching  sight  of  a  small 
crucifix  that  hung  against  Loco's  breast  where  the  blue 
flannel  shirt  fell  apart,  Traynor  looked  the  man  steadily 
in  the  eyes,  and  said  slowly,  "Hold  that  crucifix  before  me, 
Loco,  and  I  will  swear  that  I  am  telling  you  the  truth." 

The  man  wavered  a  second,  then  laughed  cunningly, 
"A  crucifix  means  nothing  to  a  Gringo,  and  fear  makes 
liars  of  all  men." 

"Let  me  go,  and  I  will  give  you  money  to  make  life  easy 
for  you,  Loco.  You  can  go  back  to  Mexico  to  your  friends 
and  be  happy." 

The  words  roused  the  man  to  frenzy.  He  leaped  to  his 
feet,  murder  and  insanity  stamped  on  his  distorted  features. 

"Go  back  to  Mexico,  you  Gringo  dog?     Do  you  know 


298  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

-when  I  will  go  back  there?  "When  I  have  killed  you,  as 
I  swore.  You  stole  her  from  me.  You  rode  away  laugh- 
ing, and  that  night  she  killed  herself!"  He  jerked  the 
crucifix  from  his  breast,  and  shook  it  in  front  of  Traynor's 
face..  "You  would  swear  it?  On  this — ?  You  did  not 
know  that  I  took  this  Cross  from  her  dead  heart !  And  I 
swore  on  it  as  I  knelt  beside  her  coffin,  that  I  would  leave 
my  country,  my  friends,  and  never  rest  or  return  until  I 
had  found  you,  who  had  made  her  an  outcast.  Every  one 
turned  from  her  while  she  was  alive,  and  when  she  killed 
herself,  the  Church  turned  from  her,  and  she  was  buried 
in  unconsecrated  ground  just  outside  the  Church  fence. 
The  Padre  said  that  the  Saints  and  the  Holy  Angels  turn 
awray  because  she  took  her  own  life." 

His  voice  rose  more  shrilly,  ''You  did  not  think  I  could 
find  you,  but  Walton  knew  you.  He  saw  you  with  her  in 
Mexico  while  I  was  away.  Walton  knew  you,  you  Gringo 
dog!  You  killed  her  body!  You  killed  her  soul!  You 
thought  you  were  safe,  but  Walton  knew  you ! ' ' 

"Walton  lied  to  you,"  Traynor  answered  furiously, 
recalling  rumours  of  Walton's  threats  of  retaliation  on 
the  Diamond  II  owner  and  cowboys.  The  Mexican,  Loco, 
had  been  Walton's  catspaw.  Traynor  subsided,  groping 
for  some  plan  to  influence  the  Mexican. 

"You  cannot  escape  this  time!"  gloated  Loco,  circling 
about  Traynor  as  buzzards  circle  about  their  prey.  "I 
swore  you  should  pay." 

He  went  to  the  fire  and  tested  his  iron.  Then,  seeing  it 
was  not  yet  hot  enough,  he  came  back  and  leaned  over  the 
prostrate  man. 

"They  are  waiting  patiently,  Senor!  As  patiently  as 
I  have  waited  seven  long  years." 

A  number  of  crows  rose  from  the  bushes  with  discordant 
caws  as  he  waved  his  arms  wildly  in  the  air  and  cried, 
4 '  Look ! ' '  They  soon  settled  down  again,  to  watch  the  two 
men.  Higher  in  the  air  circled  a  couple  of  buzzards,  and 
the  faint,  quivering  yelp  of  a  coyote  disturbed  the  silence. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  299 

"I  shall  not  kill  you,  for  I  want  you  to  live  long  enough 
to  suffer.  I  will  leave  my  brand  on  your  face  and  shall 
cut  your  ears  as  they  do  the  calves.  Then  I  will  go  back 
to  Mexico  to  my  amigos  and  say,  "I  have  kept  my  oath!" 
The  buzzards  and  coyotes  will  keep  you  company  after  I 
have  gone,  Sefior!" 

With  a  half-suppressed  groan,  Traynor  thought  of  his 
wife.  He  had  told  her  he  would  remain  a  few  days  at 
Hot  Springs,  so  there  would  be  no  alarm  at  his  absence. 
Later,  when  they  missed  him,  a  few  tattered  shreds  of 
clothing  and  fleshless,  scattered  bones  would  tell  where 
the  buzzards  and  coyotes  had  feasted. 

Muttering,  the  Mexican  brought  the  white  hot  iron  from 
the  embers  and  knelt  by  Traynor 's  side.  He  pulled  the 
crucifix  from  his  bosom,  kissed  it  reverently  and  replaced 
it;  then  he  made  the  sign  of  the  Cross  in  the  air  above 
Traynor 's  face.  His  eyes  gleamed  exultingly  as  he  clutched 
Traynor 's  hair  and  brought  the  hot  iron  closer  and  closer. 

Traynor  could  smell  and  feel  the  heat,  and  great  beads 
of  anguish  broke  out  as  he  made  a  last  conculsive  effort  to 
free  himself  of  his  bonds.  It  was  useless!  His  muscles 
relaxed,  he  closed  his  eyes,  clenched  his  teeth  and  waited. 

Loco  was  too  intent  upon  his  revenge  to  notice  a  cowboy 
racing  toward  them  down  the  side  of  the  canon,  until  a 
wild  yell  woke  the  echo  of  the  rocky  walls.  The  Mexican 
looked  up  and  recognized  Limber.  Fearful  of  being 
thwarted  in  his  revenge,  Loco  stooped  quickly  over  Traynor 
and  lowered  the  iron  deliberately  while  a  fiendish  smile 
distorted  his  face,  and  a  sibilant  hiss,  like  a  rattlesnake 
about  to  strike,  sounded  between  the  gleaming  teeth. 

Traynor,  too,  had  heard  the  yell,  but  he  had  no  hope 
that  Limber  would  reach  him  in  time.  His  eyes  looked 
into  Loco's.  The  iron  almost  touched  Traynor 's  flesh,  the 
grip  of  the  Mexican's  hand  that  clutched  his  victim's  hair, 
was  so  tense  that  Traynor  could  feel  the  quivering  nerves. 

A  shot  rang  out.  A  look  of  surprise  flashed  over  Loco's 
face,   the  iron  slid  from  his  hand,   but   Traynor  jerked 


300  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

suddenly  so  that  it  fell  against  the  ground,  while  Loco 
crumpled  slowly  across  the  body  of  the  other  man.  Weak 
with  reaction  Traynor  became  unconscious  once  more,  and 
when  he  opened  his  eyes,  Limber  had  slipped  his  arms 
under  Traynor 's  shoulders  and  held  a  flask  to  the  white 
lips  of  the  rancher. 

"Drink  it,"  commanded  the  cowpuncher,  who  was  now, 
trembling  with  nervousness.  "That  was  a  mighty  close 
call.     Did  he  hurt  you  any?" 

"I'll  be  all  right  in  a  few  minutes,"  answered  Traynor, 
as  Limber  cut  the  rope  and  assisted  him  to  his  feet.  The 
tight  coils  had  made  his  body  numb  and  the  cut  on  his  head 
was  an  ugly  one.  Traynor  was  no  coward,  but  he  felt  a 
spasm  of  nausea  as  he  looked  at  the  iron  which  was  now 
turning  from  white  heat  to  dull  red. 

"Better  let  me  fix  that  cut,"  suggested  Limber. 

He  helped  Traynor  to  the  spring,  and  washed  the  ugly 
wound  as  tenderly  as  a  woman,  then  he  bound  it  with 
Traynor 's  white  silk  handkerchief  as  he  listened  to  the 
explanation  of  what  happened. 

"  It 's  a  lucky  thing  for  Walton  he  ain  't  in  the  Territory, ' ' 
said  the  cowboy  tersely.  "You  can't  blame  the  Greaser 
for  believin'  Walton's  lies.  He's  been  off  his  cabeza  a  long 
time  and  everybody  knowed  it;  but  Loco  wouldn't  of  hurt 
nobody  if  Walton  hadn  't  put  him  up  to  it.  We  wondered 
why  Walton  was  so  all-fired  rushed  to  catch  that  train,  and 
had  figgered  out  it  was  because  Billy  Saunders  ordered 
him  to  quit  the  country.  It's  Walton  oughter  be  layin' 
there  instead  of  Loco." 

The  two  men  moved  to  the  side  of  the  dead  Mexican,  and 
as  they  stood  looking  down  at  him,  Traynor  recalled  Loco 's 
words,  "and  she  was  buried  in  unconsecrated  ground,  just 
outside  the  Church  fence,  and  the  Padre  said  the  Saints 
and  Holy  Angels  turn  away  because  she  took  her  own  life. ' ' 

The  little  crucifix  dangling  from  the  cord  on  Loco 's  neck 
had  slipped  from  the  half-open  shirt.  Traynor  knelt  down 
and  placed  it  on  the  dead  man's  breast,  then  lifted  the  limp 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  301 

hands  and  laid  them  above  the  crucifix.  Limber  took  off 
his  coat  and  covered  the  Mexican  's  face. 

"I'll  send  a  wagon  from  the  ranch,"  said  Traynor. 
"It's  a  mighty  lucky  thing  for  me  that  you  happened  across 
here  today.  I  was  on  my  way  to  the  Springs  to  see  you 
about  a  letter  I  had  from  Doctor  Powell. ' ' 

"I  was  workin'  on  the  Divide,  when  I  seen  you  and 
Loco  comin'  this  way;  but  I  was  busy  with  some  cattle 
and  didn't  pay  much  attention.  "When  I  got  through  and 
rid  up  on  the  Divide  I  seen  Loco  with  the  two  horses  and 
you  layin'  on  the  ground.  I  thought  mebbe  you'd  been 
throwed  till  I  got  near  enough  to  see  what  he  was  up  to.  I 
had  to  shoot  him.     Thar  wasn't  no  thin'  else  to  do." 

Traynor  laid  his  hand  on  the  cowboy's  shoulder,  looking 
at  him  earnestly,  "I  owe  you  a  debt  that  can  never  be 
paid,  Limber." 

The  cowboy  flushed  with  embarrassment.  "You  ain't 
got  no  call  to  thank  me,  Mr.  Traynor.  Peanut  done  it, 
not  me.  He  just  busted  hisself  gettin'  here  in  time.  I 
never  seen  him  run  so  fast.  Looked  like  he  knowed  it  was 
up  to  him  and  he  done  it." 

"Peanut  can't  have  all  the  credit,"  responded  Traynor. 
Then  he  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket.  "Doctor  Powell 
has  written  me  that  he  would  like  to  make  you  his  partner 
in  the  P  L  ranch  and  cattle,  provided  it  would  not  interfere 
with  my  plans." 

Limber  looked  up  in  open  surprise.  "I  ain't  got  enough 
to  pay  for  'em"  he  said.  "I  only  saved  up  nine  hundred 
dollars,  all  told." 

"Well,  Powell  says  if  you  won't  accept  half  interest, 
he  will  close  out  his  cattle  entirely.  The  Sanitarium  will 
take  all  his  time  and  attention,  and  he  wanted  you  to 
handle  the  stock  for  him.  I  wrote  him  I  would  be  glad  to 
see  you  two  in  partnership." 

The  cowboy  stared  at  the  ground.  "I  don't  say  that  I 
wouldn't  be  glad  to  take  the  chanct,  because  I've  been  savin' 
up  hopin'  some  day  I  could  buy  a  bunch  of  stock;  but  I 


302  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

can't  let  him  give  it  to  me.  I  can't  owe  no  man,  Mr. 
Traynor." 

"Neither  can  I,  Limber,"  was  the  quick  retort.  "The 
debt  I  owe  you  can  never  be  paid;  but  I  can  pay  part  of 
the  interest  due  on  it.  Let  me  buy  the  half-interest  for 
you  from  Powell." 

Limber  shook  his  head  slowly.  "I  don't  want  you  to 
think  I'm  mulish,  or  that  I  don't  appreciate  what  you  and 
Doctor  Powell  is  offerin'  me,  but  I  just  can't  do  it." 

"Then,  let  me  make  it  a  straight  business  deal,  as  if 
we  were  all  strangers.  Give  me  your  note  and  pay  when 
you  feel  able.  Surely  you  can't  make  any  objection  to 
that?" 

Limber  took  the  proffered  hand,  "If  you  make  the  note 
out  reg'lar,  just  as  if  it  was  some  one  else,"  he  stipulated. 

Traynor  smiled  broadly,  "All  right,  Limber.  That's 
a  go.  I'll  write  Powell  about  it.  Now,  I'll  hurry  down 
to  the  ranch  and  send  one  of  the  boys  with  the  wagon." 

Peanut  looked  up  as  Chinati  galloped  away  with  Traynor, 
but  seeing  Loco's  horse,  Apache,  tethered  to  a  bush,  and 
that  Limber  was  sitting  quietly  not  far  away,  the  gallant 
little  pony  fell  contentedly  to  cropping  the  grass. 

Limber  rose,  loosened  the  cinch  and  removed  the  saddle 
and  blanket  from  Peanut's  lathered  back  which  he  rubbed 
with  a  wisp  of  grass.  He  stroked  the  pony's  nose  absently 
and  looked  with  pity  at  the  dead  Mexican. 

"Dern  that  Walton !  The  cards  was  sure  stacked  against 
you,  Loco.     I  'm  sorry  I  had  to  do  it. ' ' 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-FIVE 

IN  spite  of  the  general  impression  of  frontier  lawless- 
ness that  prevailed  during  the  'eighties',  Arizona  had 
probably  as  clean  a  moral  standard  as  many  of  the 
Eastern  States  which  considered  themselves  far  in  advance 
of  the  unsettled  country.  Though  men  'packed'  guns,  and 
personal  affronts  were  settled  out  of  Court,  Arizona  could 
brag  that  any  good  woman  was  protected  by  every  man  in 
the  Territory. 

So,  when  the  Southern  Pacific  train  was  held  up  west  of 
Willcox,  the  community  was  as  much  surprised  and  shocked 
as  any  more  conventional  town  might  be.  Seventy 
thousand  dollars  were  taken  from  the  express  car  by  the 
robbers,  and  no  definite  clue  to  their  identity  or  where- 
abouts could  be  discovered. 

The  railroad  people,  believing  the  first  success  would 
encourage  others,  secretly  armed  all  express  messengers 
with  sawed-off  shotguns,  heavily  loaded  with  buckshot.  The 
most  deadly  weapon  known  for  short-range  work. 

These  precautions  were  justified  six  months  later,  when 
the  regular  west-bound  train  was  nearing  Cochise,  a  little 
place  twelve  miles  west  of  Willcox.  The  engineer,  observ- 
ing a  danger  signal,  slowed  down  and  finally  stopped.  As 
the  track  was  treacherous  at  that  point  during  rainy 
weather,  he  had  no  suspicions.  Frequent  washouts  oc- 
curred in  the  sandy  roadbed.  The  track-walker  ap- 
proached, swinging  his  lighted  lantern. 

''What's  the  trouble?"  asked  the  engineer,  as  he  and 
the  fireman  leaned  over  the  side  of  the  engine,  staring 
through  the  darkness. 

303 


304  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

''Track's  soft.  You'll  have  to  go  slow  for  about  a 
quarter  of  a  mile, ' '  was  the  reply.  ' '  They  wired  to  Wiilcox 
from  Cochise  but  you  had  left  on  time.  Hold  on  a  minute 
and  I  '11  ride  back  with  you. ' ' 

"All  right,"  answered  the  engineer,  then  as  the  man 
swung  on  the  cab,  "You're  a  new  man?" 

"Yes.  Just  went  to  work  this  week.  I  was  on  the  Santa 
Fe  before  I  came  down  here,"  he  drew  a  pipe  from  his 
pocket,  filled  and  lighted  it  as  the  engineer  turned  to  start 
the  engine. 

The  fireman  had  returned  to  the  rear  of  the  cab  and  set 
to  work  shovelling  coal. 

"Hands  up!" 

Two  armed,  masked  men  confronted  the  engineer  and  the 
fireman  faced  three  others.  There  was  no  alternative 
except  to  obey.  The  train  was  made  up  of  an  engine, 
express  car,  three  Pullmans  and  two  day  coaches;  the  ex- 
press, as  usual,  being  directly  back  of  the  engine  and  coal 
car.  Three  of  the  bandits  guarded  the  fireman  and  en- 
gineer, the  other  two  running  back  a  short  distance.  As 
the  brakeman  approached  to  ascertain  the  trouble,  he  was 
met  and  commanded  to  uncouple  the  express  car  and  engine 
from  the  rest  of  the  train.  Then,  having  complied  under 
protest,  he  was  compelled  to  join  the  other  two  men  who 
were  under  guard. 

"Pull  ahead  till  we  tell  you  to  stop,"  was  the  order,  and 
the  engine  puffed  on  its  way,  leaving  the  passengers  and 
conductors  to  discover  their  predicament  later. 

Four  miles  from  Cochise,  in  a  spot  where  there  was  no 
human  habitation,  the  engineer  was  forced  to  halt.  Three 
robbers  remained  on  guard  while  the  other  two  went  to  the 
express  car  and  knocked  sharply  on  the  door. 

"What  is  it?"  the  messenger  demanded. 

"Open  the  door!" 

There  was  no  reply. 

"Open  the  door,  and  we  won't  hurt  you;"  called  the 
robber  a  second  time. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  305 

Again  there  was  absolute  silence. 

''We'll  give  you  one  minute  to  open  that  door,  or  we'll 
blow  you  and  the  car  to  Hell ! ' ' 

The  man  inside  the  car  knew  there  was  nothing  to  be 
gained  by  delay. 

"All  right,"  he  called.     "I'll  open  it,  boys." 

There  was  slipping  of  bolts  and  creaking  of  wood.  The 
door  opened  slowly  about  two  inches.  Three-fingered  Jack 
standing  close  to  it,  jumped  backward  and  thrust  the  barrel 
of  his  pistol  through  the  aperture.  A  flash,  a  scream  of 
agony,  and  the  door  closed  with  a  bang.  The  messenger 
stood  with  blood  streaming  from  his  right  arm,  the  sawed- 
off  shot  gun  smoking  at  his  feet;  but  as  he  slipped  un- 
conscious to  the  floor,  he  knew  one  of  the  robbers  was 
badly  hurt. 

Outside,  the  men  surrounded  Three-fingered  Jack,  who 
had  torn  the  red  handkerchief  from  his  face.  Blood  poured 
from  a  gaping  wound  in  his  side.  His  comrades  eased  him 
to  the  ground,  then  turned  their  attention  to  the  express 
car.     This  time  it  would  be  short  work — dynamite. 

"Hurry!"  urged  the  leader. 

They  moved  to  obey ;  but  stopped  with  oaths.  Down  the 
track  from  Cochies  shone  the  headlight  of  an  engine.  They 
knew  there  was  no  other  passenger  train  due  either  way  at 
that  hour ;  but  they  could  not  count  on  freights  or  specials. 
The  railroad  officials  had  given  instructions  that  each  train- 
despatcher  keep  close  watch  on  the  time  between  stations, 
and  if  any  train  were  late  to  wire  at  once  to  the  last  sta- 
tion; then,  unless  satisfied,  rush  out  an  extra  engine,  or 
pusher,  with  armed  men. 

These  men,  seeing  the  headlight  of  the  stalled  engine, 
were  ready  for  action  as  the  'pusher'  raced  forward  at  full 
speed.  The  robbers,  realizing  that  flight  was  imperative, 
ran  to  the  horses  they  had  left  tied  in  the  brush,  only  paus- 
ing long  enough  to  seize  their  wounded  comrade.  They 
boosted  him  roughly  to  a  pony,  leading  it  by  the  reins  while 
Jack  clung  moaning  to  the  horn  of  the  saddle.     Each  move- 


306  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

ment  was  excruciating  agony,  as  they  rode  madly  through 
the  mesquite  brush  in  the  darkness. 

The  rescue  party  found  the  unconscious,  messenger,  and 
the  kidnapped  engine  and  express  car  were  backed  to  the 
rest  of  the  train,  while  the  pusher  raced  to  Cochise  for  a 
posse  and  horses  to  trail  the  robbers. 

It  did  not  take  very  long  to  load  armed  men  and  saddled 
ponies  into  an  empty  box-car  at  Cochise,  and  in  record- 
breaking  time  the  little  special  again  reached  the  hold-up. 
While  they  were  unloading  their  ponies,  the  belated  passen- 
ger train,  carrying  its  excited  passengers,  its  untouched 
express  car  and  the  wounded  man,  rattled  past  the  posse. 
The  engineer  leaned  from  his  cab,  waved  a  grimy  hand  and 
sounded  a  long-drawn  whistle.  Out  in  the  darkness,  the 
fleeing  outlaws  heard  and  knew  what  it  meant.  Their 
progress  had  been  impeded  by  the  condition  of  Jack,  and 
each  movement  of  his  pony  brought  groans  and  curses. 

The  leader  halted. 

"It's  him,  or  all  of  us,"  he  said,  and  the  rest  agreed. 

"We're  sorry,  Jack,  but  it  can't  be  helped.  We've  got 
to  leave  you  behind." 

The  wounded  man  cursed  them  for  cowards  and  traitors ; 
but  fell  limp  as  they  helped  him  to  the  ground  and  made 
him  as  comfortable  as  possible.  Then  they  rode  away, 
carrying  his  pistol  with  them,  for  they  would  need  it  worse 
than  Jack.     His  curses  followed  them. 

The  darkness  made  it  impossible  for  the  posse  to  strike 
the  trail  until  dawn,  but  no  time  was  lost  after  that. 
Whether  the  robbers  had  some  definite  plan,  or  had  be- 
come too  demoralized  at  their  surprise,  puzzled  the  trailers ; 
for  the  riders  had  kept  together  instead  of  scattering  in 
order  to  make  pursuit  more  difficult.  The  work  of  follow- 
ing was  made  easy  by  the  softened  condition  of  the  country 
from  recent  rain,  and  occasionally  a  splatter  of  blood  on  a 
stone  proved  that  the  messenger  was  justified  in  his  asser- 
tion that  he  had  wounded  one  of  the  outlaws. 

Five  miles  from  the  railroad  track  they  found  Three- 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  307 

fingered  Jack  at  the  point  of  death.  He  lay  gasping,  and 
watched  them  approach  until  they  stood  looking  down  on 
him.  A  sardonic  smile  twisted  his  features.  He  would 
have  his  revenge  on  the  men  who  had  deserted  him.  With 
curses  and  vituperation  he  told  the  names  of  those  who  had 
fled  to  save  themselves — then  added  names  of  others  in  the 
band.  Several  names  mentioned  were  not  unexpected,  as 
they  were  men  known  to  be  ready  for  any  crime ;  but  no  one 
was  prepared  to  hear  him  accuse  Jim  Glendon  and  Alpaugh, 
who  was  the  constable  of  Willcox  and  Deputy  Sheriff  of 
Cochise  County. 

Tom  Graham,  the  constable  of  Cochise  and  leader  of  the 
posse,  leaned  down  and  said,  "What  was  that?  Did  you 
say  Alpaugh  and  Glendon?" 

Jack  saw  the  incredulity  on  the  faces  above  him. 
Quietly,  but  with  rasping  voice,  he  replied,  "I  said  Glendon 
and  Alpaugh.  I  'm  making  this  statement  before  I  die,  and 
I  want  you  all  to  witness  what  I  say.  They  didn't  play 
square  with  me; — they  even  took  my  pistol  so  I  couldn't 
shoot  myself.  Glen  and  Alpaugh  were  staying  home  to 
prove  an  alibi —  We  were  to  go  to  Glendon 's  after  the 
job  was  done — give  the  money — to  him — till  row  was  over. ' ' 
His  eyes  closed.  The  men  thought  he  was  dead,  but  he 
gathered  his  ebbing  strength  once  more.  "We  were  to 
share — and — quit  the  country — "  Blood  choked  his 
utterance;  his  head  sank  back  and  the  jaws  relaxed. 

The  group  looked  at  him,  then  glanced  at  each  other 
dubiously.  The  accusation  against  Alpaugh  astonished 
them.  He  was  acknowleged  a  good  officer,  sober,  fearless 
and  apparently  worthy  of  the  confidence  the  community 
placed  in  him  while  Glendon,  though  known  to  drink 
heavily  and  be  aggressive  in  his  cups,  had  never  been  con- 
sidered criminal  in  his  tendencies.  But,  Jack's  statment, 
made  in  full  consciousness  that  he  was  dying,  and  with 
apparently  clear  mind,  was  damning  evidence. 

Slowly  the  posse  returned  to  the  track,  carrying  the 
dead  man  across  a  saddle-horse,  while  the  original  rider 


308  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

sat  behind,  balancing  the  limp  form.  "When  they  reached 
the  railroad  the  body  was  placed  on  the  floor  of  the  caboose 
and  the  engine  started  to  Willcox. 

Rumours  of  the  hold-up  drew  a  curious  crowd  to  the 
depot  and  questions  were  asked  eagerly ;  but  no  information 
was  vouchsafed  for  fear  of  alarming  those  implicated. 

Limber  was  crossing  the  street  of  Willcox  when  Graham 
saw  him,  and  taking  him  aside,  said,  ' '  I  want  to  swear  you 
in  as  deputy,  Limber,  and  may  need  you  several  days.  I 
want  men  who  can  hold  their  tongues  and  be  relied  upon. 
[We're  up  against  a  well-organized  bunch." 

The  cowboy  listened  to  Graham's  concise  statement  of 
the  hold-up  and  Three-fingered  Jack's  death;  but  was  not 
told  of  the  accusation  regarding  Alpaugh  and  Glendon. 

"I'm  ready  any  time  you  want  me,"  was  Limber's  asser- 
tion. 

"Might  as  well  come  with  me  now." 

"Which  way  you  goin'  first?" 

" Alpaugh 's  house." 

Believing  that  the  constable  of  Cochise  intended  to  co- 
operate with  Alpaugh,  the  Willcox  constable,  Limber  strode 
beside  big  Tom  Graham,  though  neither  of  them  again 
spoke.  When  they  reached  the  neat  little  cottage  where 
Alpaugh  and  his  wife  resided,  the  constable  was  sitting  on 
the  porch  smoking,  and  came  down  the  steps  to  meet  them. 

"Hear  you  had  a  lively  time  out  your  way  last  night, 

."  he  commented.     "I  was  ready  to  go  out  and  join 

the  chase  but  as  it  was  in  your  section  and  you  did  not 

wire  for  help,  supposed  you  did  not  need  me.     Catch  your 

men?" 

"One  of  'em.  The  others  had  a  good  start;  but  a  strong 
posse  with  relay  horses  is  trailing  them.  Three-fingered 
Jack  is  dead."  Graham  watched  the  effect  of  his  informa- 
tio. 

Alpaugh  started,  but  recovered  himself.  "Dead?  Was 
he  one  of  them?  Well,  you  know  he's  always  had  a  fishy 
reputation. ' ' 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  309 

"He  was  wounded  by  the  express  messenger.  Lived  long 
enough  to  make  a  full  confession." 

"Who?"  asked  Alpaugh,  trying  to  appear  unconcerned. 

" Hold  up  your  hands,  Dick.  Don't  make  trouble.  I've 
got  to  arrest  you." 

Limber  controlled  his  amazement,  and  in  obedience  to 
a  nod  from  Graham,  removed  the  pistol  from  Alpaugh 's 
hip  pocket.  Then  Graham  told  his  prisoner  he  might  put 
down  his  hands. 

The  constable  laughed  in  amusement.  "Well,  I  might 
get  mad  if  it  wasn't  all  so  darned  foolish.  I  can't  figure 
out  whether  you  are  off  your  cabeza,  Tom,  or  if  it  was 
Three-fingered  Jack  trying  to  get  back  at  me  because  I 
arrested  him  once."  His  voice  dropped  and  his  face 
grew  serious.  "I  don't  want  my  wife  to  know  this.  It's 
all  a  big  mistake  and  you'll  find  it  out  later  on;  but  I 
don't  want  her  to  worry.  You've  got  to  do  your  duty, 
Tom,  so  I  haven't  any  hard  feelings  against  you  or  Limber. 
I'd  like  to  make  an  excuse  to  Jennie  about  going  away,  if 
you  don't  mind." 

"All  right.  Don't  stir  up  trouble,  Dick;  that's  all," 
warned  Graham. 

"It's  too  silly  to  make  any  row  over,"  Alpaugh  answered 
with  open  contempt  as  he  walked  to  the  hall  door  and  called 
to  his  wife,  "I've  got  to  go  out  of  town  at  once,  Jennie. 
Graham  wants  me.  There's  been  a  hold-up  near  Cochise. 
Don't  get  worried  if  I'm  gone  several  days.  I  won't  need 
any  war-bag.     Be  back  as  soon  as  I  can  make  it." 

Mrs.  Alpaugh  was  a  plump,  quick  body,  with  brown  eyes, 
brown  skin,  smooth  brown  hair  and  alert  way  of  cocking 
her  head  on  one  side,  much  like  an  impudent  sparrow.  She 
came  on  the  porch  and  smiled  at  them. 

"I  might  as  well  be  an  old  maid,"  she  pouted.  "Dick  is 
away  nearly  all  the  time,  lately." 

"Good-bye,  Jennie,"  interrupted  her  husband,  fearing 
she  might  innocently  complicate  matters. 

"Don't  let  the  train-robbers  catch  you  all,"  she  laughed 


310  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

as  they  headed  across  the  street,  where  Alpaugh  was  taken 
to  a  room  in  the  hotel,  to  be  held  in  custody  until  the 
Sheriff  from  Tombstone,  the  County  seat,  should  arrive. 

Limber  and  Graham  walked  together  from  the  hotel. 
"Got  to  get  our  horses,' '  said  the  officer. 

At  the  Cowboy's  Rest  they  were  joined  by  other  men 
who  were  waiting.  Limber  flung  the  saddle  on  Peanut, 
adjusted  the  headstall  of  the  bridle  and  mounted. 

Out  on  the  street  Graham  rode  up  to  him,  and  Limber's 
eyes  met  his.     "Who  else,  Tom?" 

"Glendon,"  was  the  reply. 

The  cowboy  twisted  quickly  in  his  saddle,  his  face  filled 
with  consternation.     "How  did  he  get  in?" 

"Don't  ask  me,"  was  the  moody  answer.  "Three- 
fingered  Jack  made  a  dying  statement  and  accused  them 
both;  so  I've  got  to  arrest  him.  'Tain't  a  pleasant  job 
when  you've  known  the  men  for  years  and  have  slept  with 
them,  shared  chuck  and  worked  together.  It's  bad  enough 
mess  when  there  ain't  any  women,  but  Alpaugh  and  Glen- 
don have  decent  wives.  What  business  has  a  man  with  a 
family  getting  into  such  a  mess,  anyhow?"  he  growled, 
voicing  the  thoughts  of  the  man  who  rode  beside  him. 

Limber  wished  heartily  that  Powell  were  home  at  the 
Springs,  now.  In  imagination  he  pictured  Glendon 's  wife 
alone  at  the  Circle  Cross  with  only  Juan  and  the  dog  to 
sympathize  with  her  in  this  new  trial ;  he  regretted  that 
Graham  had  selected  him  as  one  of  the  posse,  but  it  could 
not  be  helped  now. 

It  was  a  very  quiet  quartette  which  rode  up  to  the  gate 
of  the  Circle  Cross.     Glendon  came  down  the  front  walk. 

1 '  Hello,  boys !  Off  on  a  hunting  trip  ? "  he  asked  affably. 
"Get  down  and  have  a  drink." 

' '  We  're  after  you,  Jim, ' '  said  Graham  bluntly.  ' '  Three- 
fingered  Jack  split  on  the  gang." 

Glendon  started  in  surprise.  "What  the  Dickens  are 
you  talking  about.  What  have  I  to  do  with  Three-fingered 
Jack?     Tou    must   be    joking!"     He    regarded    them    so 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  311 

frankly  that  they  wondered  uncomfortably  whether  the 
dead  man  had  told  the  tale  in  spite,  as  Glendon  hastened  to 
suggest. 

"I  had  trouble  with  Jack  over  two  months  ago,  and  I 
suppose  this  is  his  way  of  getting  even  with  me. ' ' 

"He  said  you  were  with  them  on  the  first  hold-up,  and 
that  they  were  to  bring  the  loot  to  you  this  time  for  you 
to  take  care  of  for  them.  I  guess  it's  up  to  you  to  go 
quietly,  Jim.  We  don't  go  much  on  what  he  said,  but  we 
can't  help  ourselves." 

"It's  a  fine  proposition  when  a  man  stays  home  and  minds 
his  own  business,  then  finds  he's  accused  of  being  mixed  in 
a  thing  like  this,"  Glendon  spoke  indignantly.  "I  bet 
Three-fingered  Jack  won't  repeat  that  story  to  my  face." 

"No  he  won't,  Jim;"  returned  Graham  quietly.  "He's 
dead.  He  made  his  statement  when  he  knew  he  was  dying, 
and  called  the  posse  to  witness  what  he  said.  He  shot  the 
express  messenger; — got  a  load  of  buckshot  himself." 

Glendon  shrugged  his  shoulders  impatiently.  "Oh,  well, 
I  suppose  I've  got  to  go,  but  you're  on  the  wrong  trail  this 
time,  boys.  I  haven't  been  away  from  home  for  over  a 
month,  as  my  wife  can  tell  you." 

He  turned  toward  the  house  as  though  to  call  for  corro- 
boration. 

"No  use  dragging  Mrs.  Glendon  into  it."  said  Limber, 
quickly.  "I  guess  you  can  get  other  witnesses  outside  of 
her,  if  you  need  'em  Jim.  It  ain't  the  sort  of  thing  for 
any  woman  to  be  mixed  up  in,  and  we  don't  want  to  make 
it  harder  for  her  than  we  have  to." 

The  others  nodded  approvingly;  but  Glendon 's  eyes 
narrowed  and  he  faced  Limber  in  sudden  fury. 

"Look  here,  Limber,  you're  an  old  friend,  but  don't 
presume  too  far.  I'm  not  as  big  a  fool  as  you  think  I  am. 
You  mind  your  own  business,  damn  you !  What's  my  wife 
to  you  anyhow?  You  and  Powell  have  butted  in  a  good 
bit  in  my  family  affairs!" 

Limber's  face  was  white;  his  right  hand  flashed  to  his 


312  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

pistol,  then  fell  away.  His  eyes  stared  in  dumb  misery 
toward  the  house.  The  other  men  saw  Katherine  Glendon 
standing  in  the  doorway.  Every  head  was  bared  instantly. 
She  understood  that  something  was  wrong,  and  an  expres- 
sion of  dread  darkened  her  eyes  as  she  moved  to  her 
husband's  side. 

''What  is  it,  Jirn?"  she  asked. 

Glendon  kicked  the  gravel  but  no  one  answered.  Ther 
as  her  eyes  moved  from  face  to  face,  she  recognized  Limber. 

"What  is  wrong,  Limber?" 

The  cowpuncher  kept  his  eyes  on  the  horn  of  his  saddle. 
He  would  have  shot  Glendon  for  the  insult  passed,  but  he 
could  not  force  himself  to  tell  Glendon 's  wife  their  mission. 

Graham  cursed  inwardly.  Glendon 's  lips  wore  an  ugly 
smile,  and  he  refused  to  speak. 

"The  train  was  robbed  again  last  night,  Mrs.  Glendon," 
explained  Graham,  at  last.  "Three-fingered  Jack  was 
killed.  He  made  a  statement  accusing  Glendon  and 
Alpaugh.  "We're  all  friends  of  Glendon 's  and  don't  be- 
lieve the  story  was  true ;  but  we  have  to  take  him  back  with 
us.     We  can't  help  ourselves." 

Katherine  held  tightly  to  the  picket  fence  while  the  man 
was  speaking. 

"You  are  making  a  terrible  mistake,"  she  cried  in  relief. 
"He  has  not  been  awa\-  from  home  for  over  a  month." 

"He  told  us  that,"  was  the  answer,  "and  we're  glad  of 
it,  too." 

She  turned  to  her  husband,  her  hand  rested  on  his  arm. 
"Jim,  tell  me  you  are  innocent,  and  I  will  believe  in  you  in 
spite  of  everything,"  she  implored. 

He  glanced  suspiciously  at  the  men.  "You  forget, 
Katherine,  these  men  will  be  witnesses  to  every  word  I 
speak. ' ' 

"We  will  ride  off  a  bit,  Glendon,  but  we've  got  to  watch 
you,"  replied  Graham.  Following  the  constable,  the  rest 
rode  out  of  earshot,  leaving  husband  and  wife  practically 
alone. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  313 

"Are  you  mixed  up  in  it,  Jimv?" 

"No;"  he  replied  boldly,  trying  to  look  her  in  the  eyes. 
As  his  glance  wavered,  she  knew  that  he  was  lying,  and  he 
knew  that  she  read  his  guilt.  The  knowledge  roused  his 
resentment. 

' '  Jim,  be  honest  with  me, ' '  she  begged  earnestly.  ' '  Trust 
me.  No  matter  what  has  happened — what  you  may  have 
done,  you  are  my  husband  and  I  will  stand  by  you.  Tell 
me  the  truth." 

"There  is  nothing  to  go  into  hysterics  over,"  he  retorted. 
"You  know  as  much  about  the  affair  as  I  do.  You  know 
I  have  not  been  away  from  home  for  a  month.  If  you  want 
to  help  me,  as  you  pretend  you  do,  that  statement  from  you 
will  counteract  anything  Jack  may  have  said.  I  don't 
know  whether  your  testimony  would  even  be  admitted  as 
evidence. ' ' 

"I  could  say  that  truthfully,"  she  answered;  "and,  oh, 
Jim !     I  am  so  thankful. ' ' 

"I  know  you  have  already  accused,  tried  and  sentenced 
me  as  guilty,"  he  shrugged  his  shoulders  and  walked  over 
to  the  men.     "Ill  be  ready  as  soon  as  I  can  saddle  up." 

Katherine  stood  by  the  gate,  numb  with  the  shock,  and  as 
the  men  rode  past,  they  touched  their  hats.  She  only  saw 
the  careless  nod  that  her  husband  gave  her,  and  he  rode 
away,  chatting  with  the  men. 

Motionless  Glendon's  wife  watched  the  last  trace  of  the 
dust-cloud  from  the  horses'  hoofs,  then,  she  turned  with 
dragging  steps  into  the  house. 

A  few  days  later,  she  learned  through  Juan,  who  had 
been  to  see  Chappo,  that  the  posse  had  caught  up  with  the 
fleeing  bandits  near  the  Mexican  border.  Their  surrender 
was  effected  after  the  ponies  of  the  outlaws  had  been  shot 
from  under  them. 

Downing,  Burke,  Wentz  and  two  brothers,  named  Rowan, 
constituted  the  remainder  of  the  band.  They,  together 
with  Alpaugh  and  Glendon,  were  taken  to  the  County  jail 
at  Tombstone  to  await  their  triaL 


314  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Then  a  note  from  Glendon  reached  Katherine.  He 
wanted  her  to  come  to  Tombstone  at  once  and  stay  there 
until  the  trial  was  over.  So,  leaving  Juan  in  full  charge, 
she  obeyed  the  wishes  of  the  man  she  had  married. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SIX 

WHEN  the  trial  took  place,  the  fact  that  Alpaugh 
and  Glendon  had  been  in  their  homes,  and  there 
being  no  proof  of  their  actual  connection  with 
the  attempted  robbery,  merely  the  unsupported  statement 
of  Three-fingered  Jack,  augured  their  complete  vindication. 

As  the  case  was  about  to  be  closed,  a  bomb  was  thrown  by 
the  prosecuting  attorney,  who  asked  to  have  "Wentz  put  on 
the  stand  as  a  witness  for  the  Prosecution.  Alpaugh  and 
Glendon,  with  their  attorneys  were  not  prepared  for 
Wentz'  evidence  which  corrobrated  the  story  of  Three- 
fingered  Jack.  Assured  of  a  very  light  sentence,  or  possible 
freedom,  as  result  of  his  turning  State's  evidence,  "Wentz 
made  a  complete  confession  of  his  part  in  the  matter,  and 
the  convincing  details  remained  unshaken  by  the  most 
severe  cross-examination  by  the  lawyers  for  the  defence. 

Alpaugh  and  Glendon,  as  the  testimony  progressed  ex- 
changed glances  of  consternation,  and  the  confusion  of 
their  attorneys  was  apparent  not  only  to  Judge  and  jury, 
but  also  to  casual  spectators  who  had  no  knowledge  of  the 
twists  of  legal  procedure.  The  jury  was  out  but  a  short 
time,  and  the  verdict  of  "Guilty"  was  no  surprise  to  any 
one  who  was  in  the  Court  room.  A  few  days  later  Glendon 
and  Alpaugh,  together  with  all  the  others  implicated,  were 
sentenced  to  ten  years  in  the  Yuma  Penitentiary.  Public 
sentiment  approved  of  the  verdict,  but  many  sympathizing 
eyes  turned  on  Katherine  Glendon,  wTho  sat  wThite-faced,  at 
the  back  of  the  Court  room. 

She  had  remained  in  Tombstone  during  the  entire  time  of 
the  trial,  and  like  many  others,  believed  Glendon  and  Al- 
paugh the  victims  of  spite  on  the  part  of  Three-fingered 

315 


316  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Jack.  To  her,  the  unexpected  development  was  crushing. 
In  her  heart  she  felt  it  was  the  truth,  although  her  husband 
persisted  in  declaring  his  and  the  constable's  innocence. 
Her  own  testimony  had  been  brief  and  convincing,  but  in 
no  way  conflicted  with  the  minute  circumstances  stated  by 
Wentz  regarding  Glendon  \s  activities.  In  fact,  it  only 
served  to  prove  that  Glendon  had  planned  a  perfect  alibi 
with  his  wife  as  an  innocent  accomplice. 

Immediately  after  the  conviction,  Wentz  was  given  his 
liberty  as  promised.  With  his  first  appearance  a  few  hours 
later  on  the  streets  of  Tombstone,  the  open  threats  of 
friends  of  the  convicted  men,  caused  him  to  hasten  back  to 
the  County  jail  and  ask  its  protection  until  he  could  ar- 
range to  get  away  from  Arizona  safely. 

The  warden  allowed  him  the  privilege,  but  was  not  en- 
thusiastic over  it,  as  he  said,  "Well,  Wentz,  you're  in  a 
fine  mess,  now.  I  wouldn't  change  places  with  you  for  a 
lot!  You're  out  a  job,  busted,  got  no  friends  and  have  to 
quit  the  country.  Denied  if  I  haven't  got  more  respect  for 
those  fellows  in  the  cells ! ' ' 

Wentz  made  no  reply,  but  slumped  down  in  a  chair,  try- 
ing to  figure  some  way  out  of  his  dilemma,  and  the  war- 
den, lighting  a  cigar,  continued  grimly,  "  You're  in  the 
same  fix  as  the  feller  that  sawed  the  limb  off  the  tree,  while 
he  was  sitting  on  the  end  of  the  limb." 

The  other  man  scowled,  but  held  his  tongue.  This  was 
his  only  place  of  refuge  at  present.  Even  those  who  had 
no  sympathy  for  the  outlaws  had  still  less  use  for  the  man 
who  had  betrayed  them.  The  warden  rose  with  a  smile  as 
Katherine  Glendon  entered  the  room.  She  had  come  to  see 
her  husband.  Wentz'  head  dropped  until  he  heard  their 
retreating  steps  in  the  corridor. 

"Is  there  anything  I  can  do?"  Katherine  asked  almost 
hopelessly,  as  she  sat  in  the  cell  talking  to  Glendon  w7hen 
they  were  alone. 

"Go  home,"  commanded  Glendon.  "There's  no  use 
hanging  around  here  any  more.     Forbes,  our  lawyer,  says 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  317 

that  the  railroad  compan}-  stretched  a  point  in  having  the 
indictment  read  'interfering  with  the  United  States  mail.' 
No  one  touched  the  mail  car.  The  railroad  company  never 
could  have  won,  and  that's  why  they  made  it  a  Federal  case. 
It  was  a  put  up  job  all  around,  and  Wentz  stood  in  with 
the  railroad  people  to  get  us." 

"Why  should  Three-fingered  Jack  have  accused  you?" 
she  uttered  a  thought  that  had  puzzled  her. 

"Well,  you  see  I  had  a  row  with  him  in  Willcox  the 
last  time  I  was  in  there,"  Glendon  replied  glibly,  then  hur- 
ried to  add,  "Now,  see  here,  Katherine,  you've  got  a  chance 
to  help  me,  and  no  one  else  can  do  it.  Will  you  stand  by 
me?  I  swear  that  if  I  get  out  of  this  trouble  you  will 
have  no  further  cause  to  reproach  me.  I  have  done  a  few 
decent  things  since  I  married  you.  Not  many,  but  can't 
you  remember  that  I  let  you  keep  Donnie  instead  of  send- 
ing him  to  father,  as  I  had  a  legal  right  to  do?" 

"Yes,  Jim!  I  will  never  forget  it!  But  even  without 
that,  I  would  do  my  utmost  to  help  you,  because  you  are  the 
father  of  my  boy." 

"You're  a  brick,  Katherine!  Now,  see  here,  I  want  you 
to  circulate  a  petition  for  my  pardon,  after  the  first  excite- 
ment has  died  down  and  I  have  shown  myself  a  model  pris- 
oner. You  will  have  to  get  a  certain  number  of  names,  as 
the  petition  has  to  go  to  Washington,  because  it  was  a  Fed- 
eral case.  The  Governor  of  the  Territory  has  no  jurisdic- 
tion over  it.  You  won't  refuse  to  do  this  for  me,  will  you? 
Every  one  is  against  me  now,  and  if  you  fail  me,  I  shall 
take  advantage  of  the  first  opportunity  to  kill  myself." 

"Jim,  have  I  ever  failed  you  yet?"  she  asked  simply. 

"No;  you've  been  a  long  way  too  good  for  me,"  he  an- 
swered, "and  if  I  can  get  this  squared,  I'll  show  you  how 
I  appreciate  you  and  what  you  have  done." 

Despite  his  promises,  she  left  the  jail  with  a  heavy  heart, 
knowing  his  weak  and  vacillating  character,  and  feeling 
that  his  protestations  were  not  to  be  reckoned  seriously. 
But,  she  also  knew  that  when  the  time  came,  she  would 


318  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

help  in  any  way  she  was  able.  So  husband  and  wife 
parted,  and  the  woman  returned  to  the  Circle  Cross  ranch 
the  following  day. 

Juan  and  Tatters  met  her  with  delight.  The  old  Mexi- 
can hovered  about  her  in  dumb  sympathy.  A  letter  from 
Donnie  was  full  of  his  childish  interests.  The  touch  of  the 
badly  scrawled  pages  comforted  her  as  though  the  child's 
hands  were  laid  on  her  own.  A  feeling  of  thanksgiving 
surged  over  her,  that  the  boy  was  away  where  no  knowledge 
of  the  shadow  in  their  home  could  cloud  his  eyes. 

When  the  Mexican  stood  in  the  door  of  the  kitchen,  say- 
ing in  his  liquid,  native  tongue,  "Buenos  noches,  Seriora" 
(Good  night),  she  remembered  that  she  could  not  keep  the 
man,  there  was  so  little  money  left  now. 

Gently  she  explained  the  situation  to  Juan.  The  bewil- 
dered expression  on  his  face  suddenly  changed  to  eagerness, 

"Sefiora,  I  have  saved  up  money.  Eet  is  for  both  ol 
us.     Some  day — manana — you  pay  me  back." 

"I  cannot  use  your  money,  Juan."  Her  voice  told  ho^ 
the  offer  touched  her.  "I  must  look  out  for  the  cattle  my- 
self, there  is  not  enough  to  pay  you  wages. ' ' 

"You  have  frijoles,  no?"  demanded  Juan.  "Eet  is 
enough.     I  stay!" 

The  matter  was  ended  by  Juan  hurrying  from  the  room 
before  she  could  protest  further.  Each  time  during  the 
following  days  when  Katherine  broached  the  subject,  Juan 
evaded  the  issue  by  having  important  work,  and  Katherine 
unable  to  do  otherwise,  let  their  lives  settle  in  a  routine 
that  promised  to  stretch  into  years. 

She  made  one  more  trip  to  Tombstone  after  the  sentence 
had  been  passed.  Glendon  instructed  her  about  circulating 
the  petition,  but  bade  her  wait  until  four  or  five  months 
after  he  had  begun  serving  his  term.  She  left  him  in  his 
cell,  carrying  with  her  an  undefinable  impression  of  a  man 
whom  she  did  not  know;  for  already  she  sensed  a  subtle 
change. 

The  day  before  the  convicted  men  were  to  be  transported 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  319 

to  the  penitentiary,  Glendon  lay  on  his  bunk  in  his  cell, 
wondering  whether  his  plans  would  fail  or  succeed.  He 
was  playing  for  high  stakes;  to  lose  meant  forfeiting  his 
life. 

Panchita  had  called  at  the  jail  several  times  since  the 
trial,  ostensibly  to  sell  tamales  to  the  prisoners  and  their 
guards.  In  no  way  had  the  Mexican  girl  been  identified 
with  the  train-robbers,  so  her  actions  created  no  suspicion. 
She  managed  to  let  Glendon  understand  that  she  was  ready 
to  co-operate  in  any  plans  he  might  make. 

He  had  given  up  his  original  idea  of  hoping  to  win  a 
pardon,  which  if  obtained,  would  only  mean  being  finan- 
cially penniless,  and  branded  as  a  felon.  The  more  he 
thought  of  the  alternative,  the  more  alluring  it  became. 

Panchita  had  told  him  that  the  money  from  the  first 
train  hold-up,  was  safely  sewn  in  a  bustle  made  of  news- 
papers which  she  wore  constantly.  She  had  whispered  this 
while  he  pretended  to  joke  and  dicker  for  tamales.  To- 
night, there  would  be  little  steel  saw-blades  in  the  tamales 
she  was  to  bring  for  his  supper.  In  order  to  disarm  any 
suspicion,  she  had  laughingly  promised  to  bring  tamales  for 
all  of  them,  because  they  were  going  on  their  long  jour- 
ney the  next  morning.  The  warden  had  given  consent, 
especially  as  she  had  promised  double  allowance  for  him  so 
that  he  could  take  them  home  to  his  wife. 

Glendon  knew  that  once  he  possessed  those  tiny  saws,  he 
could  cut  the  bars  of  his  cell  before  morning.  Panchita 
would  be  waiting  with  a  pony,  and  later  she  would  follow 
to  Mexico  where  they  would  meet.  He  had  no  fear  of  her 
failing  him,  knowing  her  insane  jealousy  of  his  wife. 

He  rose  and  paced  the  floor  nervously,  as  the  afternoon 
waned.  Five  o'clock  passed — half-past  five — then  the  clock 
in  the  sheriff's  room  struck  six.  The  jailer  passed  the 
barred  door. 

"Say,"  called  Glendon,  " hasn't  that  tamale  girl  been 
around  yet  ?  She  promised  to  give  us  all  a  tamale  supper 
tonight,  you  know.     Celebrating  our  journey." 


320  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"She's  dead/'  answered  the  jailer,  stopping  at  the  door. 
"The  place  where  she  was  staying  caught  fire  last  night. 
It  was  a  frame  shack,  and  the  rest  all  gqt  out  except  her. 
She  wasn't  burnt  but  smothered  in  the  smoke." 

"That's  tough  luck,"  said  Glendon,  trying  to  appear 
careless.     "Was  it  much  of  a  fire?" 

"No,  they  got  it  out  in  half  an  hour." 

"Was  she  living  with  her  folks?"  Glendon  was  striving 
not  to  betray  his  disappointment  and  anxiety,  but  he  felt 
like  springing  at  the  jailer  and  choking  the  truth  from  his 
lips.     Panchita  was  dead — but  where  was  the  money  ? 

"She  boarded  with  a  Mexican  family,  and  they  didn't 
know  anything  except  she  came  here  lately  and  sold  tamales. 
She  was  making  tamales  last  night  just  before  they  all 
went  to  bed." 

"Who  takes  charge  of  the  body  and  property  in  such 
cases?" 

"Oh,  the  Comny  buries  them  and  burns  up  their  old 
duds.  These  Mex  women  never  have  nothing !  Funny 
thing,  though,  about  that,"  he  paused  to  coax  a  cigar  that 
failed  to  draw  properly.  "Gosh!  That's  a  rank  cigar!" 
he  ejaculated  taking  it  from  his  mouth  and  regarding  it  in 
disgust,  while  Glendon 's  fingers  twitched.  "I  gave  two 
bits  for  it,  too." 

"You  were  saying  something  about  the  tamale  girl's 
duds.     What  was  the  joke?" 

"Oh,  yes";  the  jailer  resumed,  laughing.  "You  see, 
there  is  a  Mexican  woman  that  lives  in  the  same  shack  and 
she  works  for  my  wife.  Does  washing.  She  had  some  of 
our  clothes  there  and  so  came  up  to  explain  that  she 
couldn't  get  them  done  up  on  time.  She  told  my  wife  all 
about  the  fire,  and  that  the  girl  had  only  an  old  dress  and 
a  black  shawl,  but  a  fine  pair  of  high-heeled  slippers  and 
silk  stockings,  and — ha!  ha!  ha!  a  bustle  made  out  of 
newspapers.  Can  you  beat  that  ?  Got  to  be  in  style,  some- 
way." 

Glendon 's  eyes  flickered  and  he  caught  his  breath  quickly. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  321 

" Funny  combination,  wasn't  it?  But  all  women  folks 
are  alike.  If  one  of  them  rigs  up  so  she  has  a  hump  on 
her  back  like  a  camel,  all  the  others  break  their  necks  fix- 
ing up  humps.  If  they  were  born  that  way,  it  would  keep 
the  doctors  busy  operating  to  get  rid  of  'em." 

Glendon  stretched  his  face  in  an  effort  to  smile,  but  the 
muscles  were  almost  rigid. 

"Well,"  continued  the  narrator,  enjoying  his  own  story, 
"after  the  body  was  taken  away,  this  old  washwoman  and 
another  one  started  to  clean  up  the  place,  and  picking 
around  they  found  the  things.  They  got  to  scrapping  over 
the  stockings  and  shoes,  that  was  too  small  for  either  of 
them  to  wear.  But  they  never  let  up  till  they  had  'em  tore 
to  pieces.  The  old  woman  was  crying  when  she  told  about 
it.  My  wife  almost  had  hysterics  when  she  told  me  the 
story. ' ' 

Glendon  pretended  to  enjoy  the  joke  hugely.  Then  after 
a  short  period,  he  asked,  "But  what  did  they  do  with  the 
bustle  ?     Who  got  that  souvenir  ? ' ' 

"Oh,  they  burnt  that  up.  It  was  just  old  newspapers. 
Nobody  wanted  that.  My  wife  asked  about  it,  because  she 
thought  the  old  woman  might  be  wearing  it  herself.  So 
that 's  why  none  of  us  got  our  tamales  tonight ! ' '  the  man 
concluded  as  he  moved  away  from  the  cell  door. 

Glendon  threw  himself  on  the  bunk,  cursing  his  ill-luck. 

"Seventy  thousand  gone  up  in  smoke!"  he  muttered, 
never  giving  a  thought  to  the  girl  who  had  risked  every- 
thing for  his  sake.  His  only  regret  was  that  her  inoppor- 
tune death  interfered  with  his  plans  for  escape.  His 
former  passion  for  the  woman  turned  to  resentment. 

1 '  Paddy 's  money  is  safe, ' '  he  meditated  as  he  lay  staring 
at  the  wall.     "  If  I  could  only  get  out ! ' ' 

His  last  hope  lay  in  the  slim  possibility  that  Katherine 
might  be  able  to  obtain  a  pardon  for  him,  then  he  could  get 
Paddy's  money  and  go  to  South  America.  But  such  a 
pardon  would  take  months  to  accomplish.  Glendon  got  up 
and  walked  the  length  of  his  cell,  kicking  the  wall  when  he 


322  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

reached  the  end  of  the  room.  Curses  rose  to  his  lips.  The 
wall  in  front  of  him  reminded  him  of  the  grim  grey  walls 
of  the  Arizona  Penitentiary,  and  he  felt  that  if  he  could 
only  get  "Wentz  by  the  throat  and  choke  him  slowly  to 
death,  he  would  be  willing  to  go  to  the  Penitentiary  for 
life.    But — "Wentz  was  free. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-SEVEN 

WENTZ,  hovering  in  the  corridor  of  the  Tomb- 
stone jail,  had  overheard  the  conversation  be- 
tween the  jailer  and  Glendon.  With  knowledge 
of  Panehita's  death,  Wentz  realized  that  his  own  plans 
were  in  chaos.  Glendon 's  nonchalant  attitude  at  the  news 
confirmed  Wentz 's  belief  that  Glendon  knew  where  the 
money  had  been  concealed  by  the  Mexican  girl. 

"If  Glendon  were  free,"  Wentz  muttered,  "he  would 
probably  get  the  money  at  the  first  opportunity.  There 
may  be  a  chance  after  all." 

Deep  in  thought,  he  returned  to  the  room  where  the 
jailer  waited  for  the  deputy  to  relieve  him  that  he  might  go 
home  to  supper.  Wentz  picked  up  a  newspaper  and  began 
to  read.  The  deputy  entered  the  room,  and  nodded  to  the 
jailer,  who  exchanged  a  few  casual  words  with  him  and  de- 
parted. Wentz  had  greeted  the  new-comer,  but  a  curt  nod 
had  been  the  only  response. 

The  curse  of  Judas  was  upon  Wentz.  Since  the  trial 
none  of  the  men  he  had  betrayed  would  speak  to  him,  and 
their  eyes  were  threatening.  Other  men  in  the  jail,  offi- 
cials as  well  as  prisoners,  held  him  in  open  contempt.  Out- 
side were  those  who  made  dire  threats  of  vengeance. 
Wentz  envied  his  former  comrades  and  began  to  feel  that 
he  would  rather  share  their  punishment  than  face  his  own 
black  future.  He  was  without  money.  No  place  in  Ari- 
zona would  harbour  a  traitor;  no  man  would  trust  him  or 
hold  out  a  hand  in  comradeship.  The  railroad  would  give 
him  work,  so  he  would  not  starve,  but  life  would  be  unbear- 
able. If  he  made  his  way  to  another  section,  it  would  mean 
without  a  cent  in  his  pocket,  no  credit,  no  work.     If  he 

323 


324  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

could  only  find  where  that  undivided  money  from  the  first 
hold-up  had  been  hidden,  then  he  could  laugh  at  them  all. 

The  deputy  had  picked  up  a  book.  Yawning  and  stretch- 
ing, Wentz  dropped  his  paper,  then  rising  slowly  walked 
along  the  corridor.  He  reached  Glendon's  cell,  paused  and 
called,  "Hello,  Glen!" 

The  figure  on  the  bunk  turned  heavily,  and  Glendon's 
bloodshot  eyes  glared  in  fury  at  his  former  comrade.  He 
uttered  no  word.  With  a  peculiar  expression  Wentz  re- 
turned to  the  office. 

The  deputy  glanced  up  carelessly,  and  resumed  his  read- 
ing. Wentz  passed  back  of  him  and,  with  a  swift  move- 
ment, snatched  the  man 's  pistol  from  the  holster  that  hung 
on  his  hip,  and  struck  him  a  stunning  blow  on  the  head. 
The  deputy  dropped  to  the  floor.  Tying  and  gagging  him, 
Wentz  secured  the  keys,  then  ran  rapidly  along  the  corri- 
dor, unlocking  the  door  of  each  cell  until  he  reached  Glen- 
don  \s. 

"Get  up,  Glen!     Hurry!" 

Already  the  escaping  prisoners,  including  Alpaugh  and 
the  other  train-robbers,  were  rushing  past.  Glendon 
leaped  to  his  feet  bewildered.     "You — " 

"Don't  waste  time,  you  fool!  Some  one  may  come!" 
said  Wentz,  pulling  Glendon  through  the  door  and  keeping 
close  at  his  heels  as  they  reached  the  street,  having  stopped 
only  to  pick  up  guns  and  cartridges  in  the  room  where  the 
deputy,  now  conscious  but  helpless,  watched  the  procession 
of  escaping  prisoners. 

A  number  of  cowponies  were  tied  to  the  hitching-posts  in 
the  streets,  as  is  usual,  while  their  owners  were  about  town, 
or  eating  supper.  These  were  hastily  mounted  by  the  out- 
laws. The  presence  of  a  number  of  horsemen  galloping 
through  the  streets  of  Tombstone  was  too  common  a  sight 
at  the  County  seat  to  cause  curiosity  or  comment.  The 
escaping  prisoners  broke  into  small  groups  and  left  town 
in  different  directions,  to  avoid  any  suspicion. 

The   fugitives   had   another   advantage   in  the   unusual 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  325 

darkness,  not  only  because  of  the  hour,  but,  also,  of  the 
gathering  black  clouds  that  presaged  a  storm  at  any  mo- 
ment. So,  even  those  who  might  have  recognized  the  men 
in  the  daytime,  would  be  apt  to  pass  them  without  a  second 
glance  in  the  dim  light. 

When  the  jailer  returned  from  supper  an  hour  later  and 
discovered  what  had  happened,  a  posse  was  formed  with- 
out delay.  It  divided  into  several  parties,  that  all  roads 
might  be  covered  as  soon  as  possible ;  otherwise  the  dark- 
ness and  approaching  storm  would  make  pursuit  practically 
impossible  until  morning.  By  that  time  any  trail  made  by 
the  horses  of  the  fleeing  men,  would  be  completely  obliter- 
ated, should  it  rain. 

The  band  headed  by  the  furious  deputy  who  had  been 
the  victim  of  the  treachery,  finally  caught  sight  of  Wentz 
and  Glendon,  who  were  keeping  together;  and  a  rapid-fire 
duel  began  between  the  pursuers  and  prisoners.  The  gait 
of  the  horses,  the  uncertain  light,  and  the  intervening  rocks 
about  the  outlying  district  of  Tombstone,  all  favoured  the 
fugitives.  A  bullet  brought  down  the  horse  Wentz  was 
riding,  pinning  the  man  under  it  as  it  fell.  He  struggled 
desperately  to  free  himself.  Seeing  capture  was  inevitable, 
the  traitor  lifted  his  pistol  to  his  own  head — and  the  posse 
saw  a  flash. 

Glendou,  in  advance  of  Wentz,  heard  the  shot  and  looked 
back.  Then  something  struck  his  leg  and  he  felt  the  blood 
oozing  down  into  his  boot.  Rather  than  give  up  now,  he  de- 
termined to  follow  Wentz'  example  and  use  a  bullet  on 
himself. 

Ahead  of  him  rose  huge  boulders,  looming  like  gigantic 
tombstones.  Once  he  could  attain  their  shelter,  it  would  be 
almost  impossible  for  the  posse  to  catch  him,  or  to  take 
accurate  aim.  The  horse  he  was  riding  responded  to  the 
hammering  of  the  man's  heels — he  had  no  whip  or  spurs. 

At  last  he  reached  the  shelter  of  the  rocks  and  darted  in 
circles  from  one  to  the  other,  keeping  them  between  himself 
and  any  chance  bullets.     By  degrees,  the  sounds  of  shots 


326  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

died  away,  the  voices  of  his  pursuers  ceased.  He  knew  he 
had  outwitted  them  for  the  night ;  but  there  was  no  time  to 
lose  before  dawn. 

When  he  had  pressed  on  a  couple  of  miles,  he  pulled  up 
his  horse  and  slipped  to  the  ground,  laying  his  ear  against 
the  wet  earth  while  he  listened  intently.  But  the  only 
sound  he  heard  was  the  rumble  of  distant  thunder  growing 
louder  and  louder.  Back  of  him  the  sky  was  inky  black, 
punctured  at  short  intervals  with  zigzag  streaks  of  dazzling 
light.  The  storm  was  already  upon  the  town  from  which 
he  had  escaped. 

With  a  sigh  of  relief,  he  examined  the  wound  in  his  leg. 
It  was  superficial.  Glendon  tore  a  sleeve  from  his  shirt 
and  bandaged  the  wound.  Then,  mounting  the  panting 
horse,  he  doubled  back  on  his  trail  for  a  mile  and  made  a 
cut  across  the  mountains  at  a  point  where  no  one  but  an 
Apache  had  ever  dared  to  cross,  except  in  daylight. 

This  trail  had  not  been  used  for  a  long  time.  Glendon 
knew  the  danger  of  it;  but  death  in  the  mountains  at  the 
bottom  of  a  gully,  was  preferable  to  the  Yuma  Penitentiary 
for  ten  years,  or  longer. 

By  morning  the  rain  would  have  completely  obliterated 
his  tracks,  and  the  posse  would,  no  doubt,  continue  their 
search  in  the  direction  they  had  last  seen  him  following. 
He  realized  there  was  another  danger.  He  was  trying  to 
reach  the  Circle  Cross.  The  authorities  would  probably 
telegraph  to  Willcox  and  a  posse  be  started  from  that  point 
to  Hot  Springs.  He  must  reach  the  Circle  Cross,  get 
clothes,  food  and  a  fresh  horse  before  any  one  else  could 
make  that  ranch.  But  first,  there  was  something  else  to 
do. 

His  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  storm  breaking 
over  his  head.  The  reverberating  thunder,  incessant 
flashes  of  lightning  and  shrieking  wind  sounded  as  though 
all  the  fiends  of  the  netherworld  were  keeping  pace  with 
him,  rejoicing  at  his  escape  and  conspiring  to  aid  him. 
Across  the  backbone  of  the  range  he  urged  his  frightened, 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  327 

stumbling  horse.  Five  miles  from  the  Circle  Cross,  Glen- 
don  halted  and  sat  peering  in  all  directions  when  a  flash 
illuminated  the  brush  and  trees.  He  had  no  fear  of  pur- 
suers now,  but  he  was  searching  for  one  particular  tree, 
and  it  was  hard  to  identify  in  the  fitful  glare. 

At  last  he  found  it,  dismounted  and  tied  his  horse. 
Then  from  the  underbrush  Glendon  dragged  a  rusty  shovel 
and  began  to  dig.  The  ground  was  soft  from  recent  rains, 
but  he  paused  frequently  to  wipe  the  beads  of  perspiration 
that  mingled  with  the  rain  dashing  into  his  eyes. 

"I  didn't  put  it  so  deep,"  he  muttered,  plying  the  shovel 
more  rapidly.     ' '  I  wonder  if  some  one  else  has  found  it ! ' ' 

A  rustling  in  the  trees  caused  him  to  straighten  up  sud- 
denly and  with  a  startled  jump  he  glared  about  on  all 
sides.  The  lightning  showed  only  the  waving  branches, 
the  pouring  rain  and  the  wind-whipped  bushes. 

His  tongue  licked  his  lips.  "God!  I  wish  I  had  a 
drink !  My  nerve 's  all  shot  to  pieces ! "  He  dug  furiously. 
"It's  lucky  I  caught  old  Paddy  burying  this  money. 
That  gave  me  a  chance  to  get  the  old  fool  out  of  the  way 
without  suspicion.  Even  Alpaugh  was  in  the  dark  about 
that.  He's  as  big  a  fool  as  the  rest.  Damn  'em.  Why 
didn't  they  blow  out  Three-fingered  Jack's  brains  before 
they  left  him  there!" 

Still  he  dug,  and  the  rain  hammered  down  while  the 
wind  whistled  and  screamed  around  him.  The  shovel 
struck  a  deep  root  of  the  tree.  Something  brushed  against 
Glendon 's  face.  With  a  scream  of  fright  he  dropped  the 
shovel  and  ran  to  the  snorting  horse.  Glendon 's  eyes  star- 
ing into  the  darkness  pictured  Paddy's  sardonic  face  in 
the  bushes,  and  back  of  Paddy  was  old  Doctor  King,  looking 
at  him  with  infinite  pity.  Glendon 's  arm  went  across  his 
face  as  though  shielding  himself,  and  his  foot  was  thrust 
into  the  stirrup  of  his  saddle.  The  horse  moved  a  few 
paces,  then  Glendon  looked  back,  and  jerked  violently  on 
the  reins.  He  lifted  his  fist  and  shook  it  at  the  gloom, 
shouting   wildly,   "Damn  you!     You   can't   frighten  me 


328  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

away!     I'll  have  it  in  spite  of  you  and  Heaven  and  Hell!" 

He  leaped  from  his  saddle  and  grabbed  the  shovel,  curs- 
ing as  he  resumed  his  work  until  he  found  the  canvass  bags 
with  the  buried  money.  Unable  to  cram  the  sacks  into  the 
saddle  pouches,  he  tore  off  the  strings  of  the  bags  and 
poured  the  gold  into  the  leather  saddle  pouches  on  either 
side  of  the  horse.  Once  more  he  mounted,  but  as  he  faced 
the  trail  to  the  Circle  Cross  he  shouted  at  the  flickering 
shadows,  "Damn  you !  I've  got  it !"  Then  he  rode  on  his 
way. 

"It'll  take  four  hours  yet  for  any  posse  to  reach  the 
Circle  Cross  from  Willcox,"  he  said,  leaning  low  on  the 
saddle  to  avoid  the  lash  of  the  wind  and  the  rain.  ' '  There  '11 
be  a  big  flood  at  Hot  Springs.  I'll  have  to  leave  this  gold 
with  Katherine.  It's  too  heavy  to  pack  and  too  big  a 
risk.  I'll  take  a  couple  of  hours  to  rest  and  get  ready. 
Then  I  can  hit  the  trail  for  the  border.  Easy  to  do  after  I 
get  away  from  here  and  across  the  Willcox  flats.  I'll  take 
Fox.  He  has  no  brands  on  him.  My  saddle 's  at  the  ranch, 
too —  That'll  get  rid  of  this  horse  and  saddle —  They'll 
all  be  looking  for  this  outfit  now.  "With  Fox  and  some 
money — I  can  make  my  way  without  any  trouble,  once  I 
get  clear  of  the  flats.  I  must  cross  before  dawn — or  hide 
in  the  mountains  till  tomorrow  night,  then  cross.  Sixty 
miles  to  the  border — then  I  am  safe!" 

A  thought  of  his  wife  intruded.  "I  suppose  she  will 
balk  at  keeping  the  gold,"  he  muttered,  "but  she  will  have 
to  do  it !  There  is  no  one  else  I  can  trust  with  it.  I  won 't 
stand  anv  nonsense  now.  She'll  have  to  do  what  I  tell 
her,  by  God!" 

He  had  no  fear  of  Juan,  knowing  the  Mexican's  dog- 
like devotion  to  Katherine.  Beside,  the  Mexican  could 
not  reach  any  place  to  give  an  alarm  until  after  Glendon 
was  well  upon  his  way.  Katherine 's  exaggerated  sense 
of  duty  would  keep  her  silent,  no  matter  what  might 
transpire.     Everything  was  propitious. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  329 

His  hand  went  back  and  patted  the  wet  leather  of  the 
saddle-bags  that  held  ten  thousand  dollars  in  gold,  and 
his  lips  twisted  in  a  sneer,  "You  old  fool,  Paddy!  You 
thought  it  was  safe!" 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-EIGHT 

LIMBER,  who  had  been  across  the  Galiuros  riding 
the  Sulphur  Springs  Valley  for  a  couple  of  days, 
decided  to  go  home  by  the  way  of  Willcox  instead 
of  cutting  over  the  mountain  trail,  as  he  was  anxious  to 
hear  from  Doctor  Powell  to  whom  he  had  written  about 
the  hold-up  and  trial.  Powell  was  in  New  York  intending 
to  sail  for  Europe  within  a  few  days. 

As  the  cowboy  came  out  of  the  Chinese  restaurant,  after 
having  eaten  supper,  Jack  Green,  the  station  agent,  hailed 
him. 

"Hello,  Limber!  There's  been  a  telegram  at  the  office 
two  days  for  you,  but  I  hadn't  any  chance  to  send  it  out 
your  way.  I  guess  it'll  be  like  the  Irishman's  letter,  for 
it  was  to  let  you  know  that  the  doctor  was  coming.  He 
arrived  this  afternoon,  and  I  told  him." 

"Is  he  here ? ' '  asked  Limber  eagerly. 

"No.  lie  got  a  horse  at  the  corral  and  went  right  out 
to  Hot  Springs.  Said  he  wanted  to  see  you  as  soon  as 
possible. ' ' 

' '  Sorry  I  missed  him.  I  came  in  thinkin '  I  'd  hear  from 
him.  So  I'll  get  out  as  soon  as  Peanut's  had  a  couple 
hours'  rest." 

They  walked  across  the  street  together.  As  Green 
opened  the  door  of  the  station,  he  heard  the  telegraph 
instrument  calling  insistently. 

"Just  a  minute,  till  I  take  this  call,"  he  said,  seating 
himself  at  the  table.  As  the  message  began  coming  in 
rapidly,  Green's  face  was  startled.  He  jumped  up  as  he 
closed  the  message,  turning  to  Limber. 

330 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  331 

"The  whole  bunch  of  train-robbers  and  all  the  other 
prisoners  in  the  Tombstone  jail  are  loose.  Wentz  did  it. 
They  want  a  posse  to  start  at  once  for  Hot  Springs." 

He  and  Limber  started  rapidly.  "They  think  Glendon 
will  try  to  reach  the  Circle  Cross,  and  probably  others  will 
be  with  him.  I've  got  to  see  the  constable  and  Judge  at 
once. ' ' 

Green  darted  down  the  street.  Limber  hurried  to  the 
Cowboy 's  Rest  and  saddled  Peanut. 

"Goin'  to  be  a  big  storm,"  said  Buckboard.  "Why 
don't  you  lay  over  till  mornin',  Limber?" 

"I  been  at  the  Diamond  H,"  Limber  replied  as  he  slipped 
the  headstall  over  Peanut's  ears.  "I  missed  Doctor  Powell 
and  want  to  get  out  to  the  ranch  tonight." 

He  lead  his  pony  from  the  stall  as  he  spoke. 

"Wait  a  minute  and  I'll  lend  you  a  slicker,"  offered 
Buckboard,  disappearing  in  his  sleeping  quarters  and  he- 
turning  with  the  unwieldy,  yellow,  water-proof  coat. 

"Won't  you  need  it,  yourself?" 

' '  I  got  another  in  the  bunkhouse.  You  can  send  it  back 
when  it 's  handy. ' ' 

Limber  thanked  him  and  tied  it  across  the  back  of  his 
saddle,  glancing  up  at  the  threatening  sky.  "Guess  I'll 
need  it  before  long,"  he  said,  riding  to  the  gate.  "Much 
obliged.     So  long!" 

He  turned  Peanut 's  head  to  the  Point  of  the  Mountains, 
northwest  of  town,  passing  the  O  T  ranch  five  miles  out. 
Then  he  struck  the  road  to  Hot  Springs,  which  lay  thirty- 
five  miles  north  of  Willcox  on  a  road  that  was  totally  in- 
visible, now.  Limber  did  not  hesitate  to  urge  his  pony 
into  a  swift  gallop,  for  he  knew  he  could  rely  on  Peanut's 
wonderful  instinct  to  carry  his  rider  safely. 

"If  we  kin  reach  the  Springs  before  Glendon  does,"  the 
cowboy  spoke  to  his  pony,  and  the  tapering  ears  went  back 
at  the  sound  of  the  voice  Peanut  knew  and  loved,  "We  kin 
warn  Glen  the  posse's  comin'  so's  he  kin  git  away  in  time. 
She'd  had  enough  troubles  without  being  thar  to  see  him 


332  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

get  killed  or  kill  somebody  else,  Peanut.     Thar's  goin'  to 
be  shootin '  if  they  find  Glen ! ' ' 

Steadily  the  pony  swung  along,  and  the  storm  beat  down 
on  them  mercilessly.  The  constant  flashes  of  lightning  re- 
vealed a  stream  of  running  water  where  the  road  bed,  worn 
deeply  by  wagon  wheels  and  hoofs  of  teams,  left  a  high 
ridge  in  the  centre.  Peanut,  with  goat-like  agility  kept 
on  the  top  of  this  ridge.  It  was  the  only  solid  ground 
visible.     All  else  was  a  swamp. 

The  road  had  never  seemed  so  long  to  Limber  as  when  at 
last,  the  pony  slipped  down  into  the  mouth  of  the  Hot 
Springs  Canon. 

' '  Seven  miles  more,  Peanut ! ' ' 

It  was  the  only  way  to  reach  the  Springs  or  Circle  Cross. 
During  the  dry  season,  there  was  no  water  in  the  bed  of  the 
creek,  as  the  Hot  Springs  Creek  seeped  into  the  ground  a 
short  distance  from  the  ranch  house,  and  the  little  stream 
was  usually  only  two  or  three  feet  wide  and  a  few  inches 
deep.  Owing  to  the  immense  watershed  of  the  canon,  a 
rain  of  short  duration  often  made  crossing  impossible. 
The  banks  of  the  creek  rose  fifteen  feet,  or  more,  perpen- 
dicularly from  constant  floods,  and  often  these  banks  were 
over-running. 

This  knowledge  was  the  basis  of  Limber's  hope  as  well 
as  his  anxiety.  If  he  could  cross  the  creek  before  the  flood, 
that  very  thing  might  prove  an  obstacle  to  the  posse,  and 
give  Glendon  a  chance  to  get  a  good  start.  If  the  flood  was 
ahead  of  him,  the  cowboy  knew  he  would  have  to  wait  and 
lose  any  opportunity  of  seeing  Glendon  first.  Then  the 
other  men  would  be  there  with  him. 

He  listened  intently.  As  the  sound  he  feared — a 
smothered  roar — reached  his  ears,  he  leaned  forward  in  his 
saddle,  and  Peanut  started  with  a  snort  at  the  unusual 
touch  of  the  sharp  spurs. 

It  was  a  race  for  life  now.  Limber  knew  he  must  reach 
the  one  spot  in  the  canon  where  his  pony  could  scramble 
up  the  sheer  embankment  to  the  upper  road  before  the 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  333 

flood  could  catch  them.  Stumbling,  panting,  the  pony  tore 
over  the  rocks  and  fallen  trees  that  had  been  washed  down 
in  previous  floods,  and  crashed  among  dead  limbs  in  the 
darkness.  Peanut  fell  heavily  to  his  knees,  but  struggled 
up  instantly,  while  Limber  spurred  and  called,  "Yip! 
Yip!     Yip!     Peanut!     Go  on,  you  rascal!" 

The  pony's  ears  were  flattened  back.  He  knew  the 
danger,  now.  The  noise  of  approaching  water  grew  louder. 
Watching  for  the  next  flash  of  lightning,  Limber's  eyes 
measured  the  distance  between  himself  and  the  point 
where  the  road  struck  sharply  up  the  steep  incline  that  led 
to  safety.  With  the  same  glance,  he  saw  the  wall  of  seeth- 
ing water  tumbling  close  to  the  crossing.  Could  they  reach 
it  in  time  ? 

The  sounds  became  a  deafening  roar,  and  Peanut  flagged. 
Limber  leaned  over  his  shoulder  and  spoke  to  him,  and  at 
the  sound  of  the  loved  voice,  the  little  pony  made  another 
effort.  With  a  convulsive  leap  he  reached  the  slope  of  the 
road  and  scrambled  wildly  to  safety,  then  stopped  with, 
low  drooping  head  and  quivering  limbs.  Limber  jumped 
from  the  saddle  and  went  to  the  pony's  head,  putting  his 
arm  over  the  rain-soaked  neck,  the  cowboy  stroked  the  mane 
and  forelock.  They  could  rest  now.  No  living  thing  could 
cross  that  canon  until  the  storm  ceased  and  the  flood 
subsided.  , 

As  the  lightning  flashed,  Limber  watched  the  flood  sweep 
below,  carrying  great  cottonwood  trees  like  straws,  and 
over-turning  immense  boulders  as  if  they  were  marbles. 

Man  and  pony  had  ridden  against  Death  that  night,  and 
Peanut  had  won  the  race. 


CHAPTER  THIRTY-NINE 

KATHERINE  was  looking  out  the  window  at  the 
storm-swept  canon.  Juan  had  ridden  to  the  San 
Pedro  that  morning.  He  figured  that  he  might 
work  up  a  trade  of  two  unbroken  colts  for  a  gentle  work- 
horse. Then  when  he  was  compelled  to  make  a  trip  to  town 
with  the  team,  Katherine  could  use  her  own  pony,  Fox, 
to  care  for  the  cattle  on  the  range. 

As  the  fury  of  the  storm  increased,  she  closed  the  heavy 
shutters  to  protect  the  glass  windows  from  the  branches 
that  were  broken  and  flung  violently  against  the  little 
house.  The  storm  on  the  outside  seemed  emblematic  of 
her  life.  Yet  she  remembered  that  it  would  pass  and  the 
sun  creep  gently  into  the  places  where  the  bruised  things 
had  been  beaten  down,  and  by  degrees  the  beauty  would 
be  restored. 

Lighting  the  lamp,  she  seated  herself  at  the  table  and 
drew  a  letter  toward  her.  In  the  stress  of  events  following 
her  husband's  illness  and  Paddy's  subsequent  murder,  the 
publication  of  her  verses  had  passed  from  her  memory. 
Many  months  had  elapsed  before  Katherine  happened  to 
pick  up  the  magazine  in  which  her  poem  was  printed. 
Like  a  seed  that  had  lain  dormant,  waiting  the  proper  sea- 
son to  germinate,  rose  an  impulse  to  tell  the  thoughts  that 
surged  within  her.  In  this  mood  she  had  written  a  story 
of  the  little  ranch  in  the  lonely  canon,  and  the  things  that 
made  life  for  the  woman  living  there  with  the  old  Mexican, 
the  dog  and  the  mountains. 

Hesitatingly,  she  had  sent  the  story  to  a  magazine;  it 
had  been  accepted  and  the  editor  had  written  a  pleasant 
note  to  her,  asking  for  more  of  her  work.     The  letter  opened 

334 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  335 

a  world  of  possibilities.  Not  that  she  dreamed  of  leaping 
into  fame  and  fortune  as  a  writer;  but  because  it  gave  her 
empty  life  an  object.  In  grasping  at  a  straw,  she  had 
found  a  friendly  hand  that  dragged  her  from  the  black 
waves  of  despair  and  pointed  a  beacon  light,  encouraging- 
her  to  struggle  on.  The  way  was  no  longer  lonely ;  it  was 
peopled  by  unknown  friends  with  whom  she  could  share 
thoughts  which  had  been  suppressed  for  years. 

The  legacy  received  from  her  aunt  would  amply  provide- 
for  Donnie 's  education  until  he  was  able  to  assist  himself; 
she  could  remain  on  the  ranch  with  old  Juan,  caring  for 
the  remnant  of  the  Circle  Cross  herd,  which  would  furnish 
what  they  needed,  with  the  help  of  the  garden-patch, 
chickens  and  a  cow.  If  she  could  sell  a  few  stories,  Donnie 
could  spend  his  summer  vacations  with  her. 

"Ten  years,"  she  thought,  ashamed  of  the  knowledge 
that  it  meant  peace  unspeakable.     * '  Ten  years — and  then  ? ' ' 

Forcing  the  thought  from  her,  she  took  the  second  letter 
from  its  envelope.  It  was  from  Glendon's  father,  reiterat- 
ing his  offer  to  take  the  boy  and  educate  him.  The  tone 
of  the  letter  was  the  same  as  the  first  one  he  had  written  his 
son  about  Donnie.  It  was  a  grim,  hard  letter.  Katherine, 
reading  between  the  lines,  felt  no  resentment ;  she  realized 
the  old  man's  keen  disappointment  in  his  only  son,  and 
her  heart  cried  out  in  sympathy. 

So  she  wrote,  thanking  her  husband's  father  explaining 
courteously  about  the  legacy  providing  for  the  boy's  educa- 
tion, and  stating  that  she  would  remain  at  the  ranch  until 
such  time  as  her  husband  returned  to  it. 

Having  sealed  the  letter,  she  sat  idly  listening  to  the 
storm,  when  a  knock  on  the  door  startled  her.  She  thought 
there  was  no  one  in  the  neighbourhood  except  herself  and 
old  Chappo  at  the  Hot  Springs  ranch,  and  she  wondered 
what  could  have  brought  his  out  in  such  a  night.  A  second 
knock  sounded  before  she  opened  the  door,  holding  it  with 
difficulty  against  the  wind,  her  eyes  blinded  by  the  darkness 
of  the  night,  and  the  rain  beating  across  the  threshold. 


336  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

' 'Is  that  you,  Chappo?"  she  called  above  the  noise  of 
the  storm. 

"Katherine!" 

Her  eyes  became  tragic  and  her  face  white  as  Powell 
entered  the  room. 

"You?"  she  whispered  doubtingly  and  yet  with  a  little 
thrill  of  gladness  in  her  voice. 

He  grasped  her  cold  hands,  looking  eagerly  into  her  face. 

"You  poor  child!"  Only  three  words,  but  they  seemed 
to  cover  her  with  warmth  and  protection.  Then  she  re- 
membered, and  drawing  her  hands  from  his,  sank  trembling 
into  a  chair,  while  Powell  stood  by  her  side.  A  great 
happiness  illumined  his  face,  for  he  had  caught  the  look 
in  her  eyes  and  had  heard  the  note  in  her  voice. 

"I  tried  to  stay  away,"  he  said  at  last.  "I  thought  I 
could  blot  you  out  of  my  life,  but  I  could  not.  I  was  in 
New  York  when  Limber's  letter  reached  me,  telling  about 
the  hold-up,  trial  and  conviction.  I  took  the  first  train 
home.  If  the  letter  had  been  a  day  later,  I  should  have 
been  on  my  way  to  Europe.  You  will  never  know  what  it 
meant,  picturing  you  alone  here  with  this  new  trouble  to 
bear." 

1 '  Don 't ! "  pleaded  Katherine.  ' '  Do  you  realize  what  has 
happened?" 

"I  know  that  the  law  has  taken  it  course  justly,"  re- 
plied Powell.  "Glendon's  conviction  is  sufficient  to  justify 
your  appeal  for  a  divorce.  No  further  sacrifice  is  necessary 
on  your  part.     Surely  you  will  not  hesitate,  now?" 

"He  has  no  one  else,"  she  answered  slowly,  "Therefore 
my  obligation  is  the  heavier." 

"No  obligation  is  due  a  man  like  him.  He  has  heaped 
indignity  and  suffering  on  you  and  Donnie.  You  cannot 
point  one  redeeming  trait  in  his  character." 

"He  is  my  husband.  Only  death  can  cancel  that  obliga- 
tion." 

"He  is  a  curse  to  humanity,"  Powell's  voice  vibrated 
with  emotion.     "Even  should  you  remain  here  until  he 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  337 

serves  his  time,  it  will  a  mean  more  hideous  life  after  he 
returns.  Either  Donnie  will  succumb  to  his  father's 
influence,  and  you  will  have  two  brutes  to  cope  with,  or  the 
boy  will  hate  his  father,  and  someday  Glendon  will  kill 
Donnie  or  Donnie  will  kill  his  father.  You  have  no  right 
to  force  such  a  situation  on  the  boy,  to  face  such  a  future 
for  yourself." 

Katherine  stood  before  him,  her  hands  tightly  locked 
together  to  control  the  trembling,  she  did  not  answer,  but 
the  look  in  her  eyes  told  that  she  realized  the  truth  of  his 
words.  Powell  was  overcome  with  compunction  and  tender- 
ness.    His  hands  were  laid  gently  on  hers. 

"Please  forgive  me,"  he  begged.  "It  maddens  me  to  see 
you  in  such  trouble  and  know  I  am  powerless  to  help  you. 
The  only  gift  I  crave  of  life  is  the  privilege  to  serve  and 
protect  you  and  Donnie." 

She  lifted  her  eyes  to  the  hands  that  were  reaching  out 
to  her,  then  her  gaze  rested  on  his  face. 

"Can  you  understand,"  she  said,  "how  a  hungry  beggar 
feels  outside  in  the  storm  and  cold,  looking  into  a  warm 
room  where  a  banquet  of  rich  food  and  wine  is  spread  be- 
fore his  eyes?  I  am  starving  for  a  crumb  of  your  love ;  yet 
I  must  turn  away  hungry." 

He  started  toward  her  with  a  cry  of  joy,  but  she  moved 
farther  from  him. 

"Do  you  think  I  would  have  told  you,  if  I  had  not  be- 
lieved I  had  the  strength  to  turn  away?"  she  asked  in  a 
dull  voice.  "It  is  my  atonement.  I  tried  so  hard  to  be 
true  to  him,  in  spite  of  everything;  but  at  night  you  came 
to  me  in  my  dreams,  and  I  lived  in  another  world,  till 
dawn  brought  me  back  here  again.  Oh,  why  does  God  let 
us  make  such  terrible  mistakes  when  He  knows  we  have 
only  one  little  life  to  live?  I  am  tired — so  tired  of  strug- 
gling!" 

Powell  knew  that  it  was  her  moment  of  weakness,  and  the 
temptation  was  strong  upon  him  to  urge  her;  but  he  also 
knew  that  no  happiness  would  be  lasting  unless  she  came 


338  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

to  him  without  a  shadow  of  the  past  falling  across  their 
lives. 

"You  are  right,  Katherine,"  he  said,  gravely.  "I  shall 
not  worry  you  any  more.  All  I  ask  is  that  you  will  remem- 
ber I  am  waiting,  to  help  you  when  you  need  me."  He 
lifted  her  hand  to  his  lips  and  then  she  watched  him  pass 
out  into  the  storm. 


CHAPTER  FORTY 


1 


"^IIE  wind  beat  the  windows  and  screamed  like  a 
living  thing  in  maniacal  rage;  it  struck  the  door 
and  whipped  the  trees,  tearing  away  branches  and 
throwing  them  down  the  canon.  One  crash  barely  died  in 
the  distant  rumble  when  another  crash  succeeded.  A 
cloud-burst  added  to  the  wildness  of  the  scene. 

The  flashes  that  lit  the  huge  cliffs  about  the  Circle  Cross, 
revealed  a  rain-sodden  figure  mounted  on  an  exhausted, 
stumbling  horse  back  of  the  little  ranch-house.  The  horse 
picked  its  way  uncertainly  until  it  reached  the  shelter  of 
the  stable  shed.  Glendon  slipped  stiffly  from  its  back  and 
opening  the  door,  led  the  animal  into  an  empty  stall.  The 
horse  stumbled  and  Glendon  gave  it  a  vicious  kick  as  he 
cursed  it. 

Fox  stopped  munching  his  hay  to  poke  an  inquisitive 
nose  across  at  the  stranger,  while  Glendon  started  to  un- 
buckle the  saddle-bags.  As  he  lifted  them,  he  saw  a  saddled 
horse  in  the  stall  on  the  opposite  side  of  Fox.  Cursing  his 
luck,  the  man  tossed  the  saddle-bags  back  on  the  horse  he 
had  ridden,  and  adjusted  them  hastily.  Then  he  reached 
up  behind  the  hay  at  the  end  of  the  stable  and  extracted  a 
bottle  of  whiskey  which  he  had  put  there  just  before  his 
arrest.  After  taking  a  couple  of  copious  drinks,  he  thrust 
the  bottle  into  his  coat  pocket  and  mounted  the  horse  whose 
stiffened  movements  told  that  it  was  badly  foundered. 
Glendon  dug  his  heels  into  the  heaving  sides,  and  the  ani- 
mal with  low  hanging  head,  stumbled  wearily  through  the 
trees  directly  back  of  the  house. 

Glendon  checked  the  horse  at  a  point  where  the  dense 
undergrowth  protected  him,  yet  allowed  a  view  of  the  house 

339 


340  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

and  stables  in  the  flashes  of  lightning.  He  wondered  who 
could  be  there  at  that  hour,  unless  Chappo  were  visiting 
old  Juan.  Had  the  unknown  rider  intended  to  remain  all 
night,  the  strange  horse  would  have  been  unsaddled. 
Glendon  sat  shivering  until  overcome  with  curiosity  and 
the  knowledge  that  each  moment's  delay  was  dangerous, 
he  dismounted,  tied  his  horse  and  crept  cautiously  to  the 
side  of  the  house  where  he  peered  through  the  crevice  of  a 
broken  window  shutter.  Possibly  some  one  had  already 
reached  the  Circle  Cross  from  Willcox,  and  was  now  wait- 
ing to  catch  him  if  he  appeared. 

Through  the  shutter  he  saw  Powell  and  Katherine.  The 
noise  of  the  storm  deafened  their  voices,  but  the  man  out- 
side read  the  story  in  their  faces.  He  saw  Powell  lift 
Katherine 's  hand  to  his  lips. 

Glendon  started  in  fury.  He  reached  for  the  pistol  he 
had  taken  from  the  jail;  but  remembering  that  he  needed 
his  wife's  assistance,  decided  that  his  vengence  could  wait. 
He  would  let  the  man  go,  but  the  woman  should  pay  for 
both.  Later  Powell  should  know  of  it.  Glendon 's  lips 
twisted  in  a  vicious  smile. 

When  Powell  started  toward  the  door,  Glendon  shrank 
against  the  adobe  wall  where  the  chimney  jutted  out.  The 
doctor  passed  him,  entered  the  stable,  then  Glendon  watched 
him  ride  swiftly  toward  the  Hot  Springs.  Peeling  secure 
from  other  intruders,  Glendon  returned  to  the  horse  and 
led  it  to  the  stable  where  he  unsaddled  it.  He  made  his 
plans.  Fox  had  never  been  branded,  so  would  not  be  easily 
indentified,  and  with  his  own  saddle  he  would  be  fairly 
safe,  once  he  reached  the  Mexican  border. 

No  one  would  ever  suspect  Katherine  of  having  the  gold, 
and  when  he  felt  safe,  she  could  come  to  him  with  it.  It 
was  a  g@od  thing  Panchita  was  out  of  the  way,  now. 

He  grasped  the  heavy  saddlebags  and  staggered  to  the 
dark  and  silent  house.  Tatters,  hearing  the  approach- 
ing steps,  barked  fiercely.  Glendon  twisted  the  knob,  but 
the  door  was  locked.     He  knocked  sharply. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  341 

1  'One  minute,"  he  heard  Katherine  call.  "Is  that  you, 
Juan?" 

Glendon  did  not  reply.  Then  the  door  opened  and 
Katherine,  with  a  bathrobe  over  her  thin  white  gown  and 
her  bare  feet  thrust  into  a  pair  of  shabby  little  kid  slippers, 
saw  her  husband,  dripping  from  the  rain,  brush  past  her 
into  the  room.  Tatters  ran  up  but  received  a  kick,  while 
Glendon  dropped  the  gold-laden  bags  with  a  dull  thud  on 
the  floor. 

"Damn  that  brute!"  he  snarled.  "Make  him  quit  his 
noise  and  keep  out  of  my  way  if  you  don't  want  him 
killed!" 

The  collie  crept  under  the  bed  and  Glendon  threw  off 
his  streaming  coat. 

"God!     What  a  night!" 

Katherine  stared  at  him,  dazed  and  uncomprehending. 
He  regarded  her  with  a  nasty  smile. 

"Well,  you  don't  seem  overjoyed  to  see  me,"  he  sneered. 
"Nice  wifely  reception  I  get.  Thought  I  was  locked  up 
for  good,  I  suppose.  Didn't  expect  any  visitors  tonight, 
eh?" 

The  significance  of  his  remark  did  not  penetrate  her 
thoughts.  She  stood  silently  looking  at  him,  trying  to 
understand  how  he  was  here,  waiting  his  explanation. 

Glendon  turned  in  rage.  "What  do  you  mean  standing 
there  staring  like  an  idiot?"  he  demanded.  "This  is  no 
time  to  waste.  Get  a  move  on  you.  I  want  some  grub  and 
dry  clothes." 

Mechanically,  dumbly,  she  hastened  to  obey  him.  Glen- 
don ate  the  food  that  she  set  before  him,  then  he  finished 
with  several  drinks  from  the  bottle  in  his  pocket.  The 
warmth  of  the  room  began  to  effect  his  head,  after  drink- 
ing ;  it  loosened  his  tongue.  The  woman  who  watched  him 
with  dead  eyes,  made  no  comment. 

"Wentz  knocked  the  deputy  over  and  tied  him  and 
opened  the  jail  doors, ' '  he  bragged  as  he  ate.  ' '  They  didn  't 
find  it  out  for  some  time,  and  when  they  saw  us  it  was  so 


342  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

dark  they  could  not  keep  track  of  me  among  the  rocks. 
They  shot  Wentz's  horse  and  he  killed  himself.  Damn 
him !  It  served  him  right.  If  he  had  held  his  tongue  at 
the  trial,  Alpaugh  and  I  would  have  escaped  convic- 
tion. Then  we  could  have  helped  them  all  as  we  promised 
to  do.  Alpaugh  and  Bravo  Juan  kept  together.  I've 
got  to  keep  moving.  They  got  me  in  the  leg,  it's  only  a 
scratch. ' ' 

He  limped  across  the  room  and  dragged  the  saddlebags 
to  the  table.  With  trembling  hands  he  unfastened  the 
straps  and  let  the  gold  flow  out  in  a  dull,  glowing  stream, 
fingering  it  caressingly.  "Take  care  of  this  money  until 
I  write  to  or  send  word  where  you  can  join  me  with  it;" 
he  ordered.  "I'm  going  to  cut  across  to  the  Mexican 
border;  then  work  my  wa}^  down  to  South  America.  Any 
man  speaking  Spanish  can  get  along  there.  It's  a  country 
where  they  don't  ask  too  many  questions.  There's  ten 
thousand  dollars,"  he  ran  his  hands  over  the  coins.  "That 
will  give  me  a  good  start  down  there.  I  '11  write  you  under 
the  name  of  Reese,  but  not  for  five  or  six  months.  I  '11  have 
to  cover  my  tracks  pretty  well,  or  the  Federal  officers  will 
locate  me.  I'll  take  Fox  and  my  own  saddle.  I  don't 
want  Juan  to  know  I'm  here  tonight;  but  after  I  leave, 
you  must  start  him  out  to  the  Rim  Rock  with  the  horse  I 
rode  tonight.  Tell  him  to  hide  the  saddle  and  shoot  the 
horse  and  skin  it,  and  bury  the  hide.  He'll  do  anything 
that  you  ask  him,  and  won't  talk." 

"Juan  sold  your  saddle  after  the  trial.  We  needed 
money  so  badly,"  said  the  woman  slowly. 

"Then  I'll  take  Juan's.  I  dare  not  risk  using  the  one 
I  rode  tonight,  nor  the  horse,  either." 

"Juan  is  riding  his  own  saddle.  He  won't  be  back  for 
several  days.     He  is  trying  to  trade  some  colts." 

Glendon  paced  the  room  cursing  his  ill-luck  as  he  saw 
his  carefully  formed  plans  disintegrate.  He  bit  his 
knuckles  nervously  as  he  tried  to  decide  what  to  do. 
Katherine  leaned  across  the  table  as  Glendon  paused  and 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  343 

once  more  ran  his  fingers  through  the  coins.  She  looked 
up  and  his  eyes  met  hers. 

''Where  did  you  get  that  gold,  Jim?"  she  asked  quietly. 

"None  of  your  business,"  he  retorted,  deceived  by  her 
even  tones.  "It's  mine — do  you  hear?  Mine!  No  one 
else  can  claim  it!" 

"No  one  else  can  claim  it,"  she  echoed.  Then  her  eyes 
widened.     "It  is  Paddy's  money!"  she  cried. 

Glendon  shrugged  his  shoulders.  "What  of  it?  He 
buried  his  money  and  every  one  knew  it.  He  had  no  one 
belonging  to  him.  It  is  Paddy 's  money !  Now,  what  have 
you  got  to  say  about  it?" 

' '  You  found  that  money  first  and  killed  him  afterwards. ' ' 
she  said  tensely.  "Oh!  I  knew  there  was  something 
wrong  when  you  killed  him."     She  recoiled  in  horror. 

"I  was  acquitted,"  he  faced  her  like  a  trapped  coyote." 
"No  one  can  prove  it  wasn't  self-defence  !  You're  my  wife 
and  you've  got  to  hold  your  tongue!" 

Possibly  the  repugnance  in  her  face  stung,  for  he  reeled 
to  her  side  with  an  oath.  She  looked  at  him  unafraid  and 
the  knowledge  that  he  had  no  more  power  over  her  goaded 
him  to  frenzy. 

His  clenched  fist  was  lifted  and  brought  down  with  a 
crashing  blow  in  her  face.  She  fell  against  the  sharp  edge 
of  the  window-ledge,  clinging  blindly  as  she  struggled  to 
her  feet,  but  he  knew  she  was  unconquered.  Dragging  the 
pistol  from  his  belt,  he  hurled  the  loaded  weapon  at  her. 
It  struck  the  window  casing  a  few  inches  above  her  head, 
then  dropped  to  the  floor,  the  black  composition  handle 
shattered,  leaving  only  the  steel  rim,  but  the  cartridges 
failed  to  explode. 

Glendon  glared  at  her  as  she  stood  panting  against  the 
wall,  her  white  face  contrasting  vividly  with  the  blood  that 
oozed  from  cuts  on  cheek  and  lip — the  eyes  that  regarded 
him  held  no  fear.  She  knew  that  death  was  standing  beside 
her,  but  it  seemed  a  welcome  friend,  with  outstretched, 
sheltering  arms. 


344  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"I'll  make  you  understand  that  you  are  my  wife,"  the 
man  started  threateningly  toward  her,  his  hand  reaching" 
down  to  pick  up  the  pistol  on  the  floor.  Neither  of  them 
saw  the  dog  which  had  been  watching  from  beneath  the 
bed,  and  now  was  dragging  itself  stealthily  forth,  its  lips 
twitching,  its  eyes  blazing  in  fury.  With  a  sudden  spring, 
it  caught  Glendon 's  hand  in  its  strong,  gleaming  teeth. 

The  man's  curses  mingled  with  deep-throated  growls, 
and  as  they  fought,  the  woman  stood  dumb,  unable  to  move. 
The  blood  on  her  face  dripped  slowly  on  the  white  gown. 
There  was  a  shot,  and  Glendon  rose  to  his  feet,  kicking  the 
dog  that  lay  dying  on  the  floor. 

With  a  cry  of  pity,  Katherine  stooped,  and  the  hrute 
that  had  given  its  life  in  an  effort  to  protect  her,  lifted  its 
head  feebly  and  licked  her  hand.  Then  with  its  eyes  on 
her  face,  it  gave  a  convulsive  shudder.  With  quivering 
lips  and  trembling  hand  she  laid  it  down  on  the  floor,  rose 
and  faced  her  husband. 

"Will  you  do  what  I  tell  you?"  he  demanded. 

"No!  You  can  kill  me  as  you  have  killed  Tatters,  but 
I  will  not  touch  that  money!" 

He  leaped  at  her,  caught  her  by  the  throat  and  flung  her 
violently  to  the  floor.  Weak,  voiceless,  still  unconquered, 
he  watched  her  drag  herself  again  to  her  feet.  He  levelled 
the  pistol  at  her  head.     She  did  not  flinch  as  she  faced  it. 

Glendon  thrust  it  back  into  the  holster.  "Damn  you! 
I'll  get  along  without  you ;  but  I  won't  kill  you.  I'm  going 
to  kill  that  dude  doctor  and  see  how  you  like  that  to  re- 
member me  by!" 

He  poured  more  liquor,  then  bending  under  the  weight 
of  the  saddle  bags,  he  strode  through  the  door. 

Katherine  stood  dazed,  staring  dowTn  at  the  dead  dog  on 
the  floor,  as  though  her  brain  had  ceased  working.  Out- 
side, in  a  lull  of  the  storm,  sounded  the  sharp  beat  of  hoofs. 
Glendon  was  riding  past  the  house. 

"He  is  taking  the  road  to  the  Springs,  Tatters,"  she 
said  slowly,  her  eyes  on  the  dead  dog  as  she  spoke  to  it. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  345 

There  were  chains  on  her  brain  ; — it  could  not  think ;  chains 
on  her  hands  and  feet — she  could  not  move. 

A  tiny  red  stream  was  creeping  over  the  wooden  floor 
toward  her  and  she  wondered  what  she  would  do  when  it 
reached  her.  Fascinated  she  watched  it,  then  when  it 
touched  the  hem  of  her  gown  making  a  stain  like  those 
above  it,  she  woke  in  a  wild  frenzy  of  despair. 

"No !  No!"  she  cried  flinging  the  door  open.  "I  will  do 
anything  you  wish,  Jim!     Come  back!     Come  back!" 

But  Glendon  was  gone.  The  wind  tore  and  lashed  the 
curtains  with  the  gay  cretonne  bands.  It  blew  out  the 
flame  of  the  lamp  and  the  rain  beat  down  on  the  bright 
Navajo  rugs  and  the  dead  dog  lying  on  the  floor. 

The  woman  ran  to  the  stable.  The  heavy  door  banged 
on  broken  hinges.  She  clung  to  the  empty  stall  and 
thought  she  saw  her  husband  riding  up  to  the  Hot  Springs 
Ranch.  She  saw  him  jump  from  his  horse  and  knock  at 
the  door —  Saw  Powell  open  that  door,  and  then — she  saw 
a  tiny  red  stream  trickling  across  the  wooden  floor. 

"Without  stopping  to  reason  that  she  had  no  chance 
against  a  man  on  a  horse,  she  turned  and  faced  the  storm. 
The  wind  whipped  her  long,  dark  hair  across  her  face  and 
tore  the  robe  back  from  the  thin  white  gown.  Her  slippers, 
rain-soaked,  dropped  from  her  bare  feet,  and  the  sharp 
stones  cut  the  tender  flesh.  She  ran  on,  unconscious  of 
everything  except  the  knowledge  that  Powell — the  man 
she  loved — was  in  danger. 

Slowly  and  more  slowly  she  ran,  her  breath  coming  in 
sharp  little  gasps  that  hurt.  She  staggered  a  few  more 
fret,  then  with  a  tired  sigh,  sank  to  the  ground,  trying  with 
her  last  conscious  thought  to  remember  whether  it  was 
Tatters  or  Doctor  Powell  lying  dead,  where  the  little  scarlet 
thread  kept  creeping — creeping — creeping — . 


o 


CHAPTER  FORTY-ONE 

"  ^^\  NLY  a  little  way  further,  Peanut,  old  boy,"  Lim- 
ber encouraged  the  pony,  patting  its  neck  as  he 
swung  once  more  to  its  back ;  and  Peanut,  know- 
ing the  distance  home,  started  willingly  on  his  way  tnrough 
the  storm. 

They  were  on  the  main  road  which  led  directly  to  the 
Hot  Springs  ranch,  but  a  few  feet  from  the  creek-crossing 
it  forked  to  the  Circle  Cross.  As  they  neared  this  Y,  the 
pony  jumped  and  stopped,  snorting.  Limbed  leaped  from 
his  saddle  and  sheltered  by  Peanut's  body,  crouched  low, 
holding  his  pistol  ready.  When  the  next  flash  came,  illumi- 
nating the  landscape  as  brilliantly  as  though  it  were  mid- 
day, he  slipped  the  pistol  quickly  into  the  holster  at  his 
hip  and  ran  to  a  white  heap  huddled  in  the  road. 

Limber  stooped  at  the  woman's  side  and  held  his  shaking 
hand  against  her  heart ;  then  he  opened  his  flask  and  forced 
whiskey  between  the  closed  teeth,  and  chafed  the  cold  hands. 
There  was  no  response.  Hurriedly,  he  unfastened  the 
yellow  slicker  he  was  wearing,  and  gently  wrapped  it  about 
the  unconscious  form.  Then,  lifting  her  in  his  arms,  the 
cowboy  mounted  his  pony,  thankful  that  Doctor  Powell 
was  so  near. 

The  wind  blew  the  woman's  hair  across  his  lips,  and  a 
wonderful  sense  of  happiness  thrilled  him.  In  the  flashes 
he  could  see  her  pale  face  lying  against  his  wet  coat,  and 
his  heart  throbbed  with  love  and  tender  pity. 

Doctor  Powell  opened  the  door  in  response  to  Limber's 
call.  A  vivid  flash  showed  Peanut  with  Limber  on  his 
back  holding  Katherine  in  his  arms. 

"What's  the  matter,  Limber?" 

346 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  347 

"I  found  her  at  the  forks  of  the  road  on  the  ground. 
She's  just  fainted,  I  think,"  explained  the  cowboy  as  he 
placed  the  unconscious  form  in  the  doctor's  arms. 

Chappo  ran  from  the  house  and  took  the  reins  from 
Limber,  leading  Peanut  to  the  stable  while  the  two  men 
entered  the  house.  The  doctor  laid  Katherine  on  the  couch 
and  brought  restoratives.  Limber  knelt  beside  her  and 
gently  chafed  the  cold  hands. 

"  Glendon 's  broke  jail  at  Tombstone  with  the  rest  of 
the  bunch.  There's  a  posse,  coniin'  from  Willcox.  I  was 
comin'  out  to  let  you  know;  but  they  can't  cross  the  Creek 
now.  It's  runnin'  from  bank  to  bank.  Peanut  just  made 
it  by  a  scratch." 

The  light  from  the  lamp  fell  across  the  cut  and  bruised 
face,  and  Limber's  eyes  turned  to  Powell. 

"Do  you  think  she  done  that  fallin'  in  the  road?"  he 
asked  significantly. 

"No,"  was  the  positive  reply,  as  Powell  studied  her 
face.  "It  looks  like  a  blow;  besides,  those  are  finger  marks 
on  her  throat.  I  saw  her  two  hours  ago — she  was  all  right 
then —     Juan  is  away —     I  left  her  there  alone. 

Limber  rose  from  the  side  of  the  couch  and  looked  into 
Powell's  eyes.  "Nobody  would  lay  a  hand  on  her  exceptin' 
Glendon." 

Powell  uttered  no  sound,  but  his  face  was  pale  with 
emotion  as  the  cowboy  went  on  speaking  in  low,  tense  voice, 

"They  got  away  at  six  o'clock,  and  if  Glendon  had  a 
good  mountain  pony  and  took  the  old  Indian  trail,  he 
could 've  got  to  the  Circle  Cross  before  now.  If  I  knowed 
he'd  hit  her,  I'd  kill  him  on  sight!  She's  the  nerviest 
Woman  I  have  ever  seen — and  the  finest." 

Doctor  Powell  held  out  his  hand  and  gripped  Limber's. 

"You've  been  a  loyal  friend  to  her,  Limber." 

"Thar  ain't  nothin'  I  wouldn't  do  for  her,"  said  the 
cowpuncher,  simply.  "Thar's  lines  that  is  drawed  between 
humans,  jest  as  in  animals.  Glendon  wasn't  meant  for  her, 
noway. ' ' 


348  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Understanding  each  other  thoroughly,  the  two  men  who 
loved  her  sat  watching  the  unconscious  woman  until  her 
eyes  opened  slowly,  resting  curiously  on  Limber;  then  as 
she  saw  the  other  man,  her  expression  turned  to  one  of 
terror.  With  a  cry,  she  tried  to  rise,  but  Powell's  hand 
restrained  her. 

"Lie  still, "  he  said  quietly.     "You  are  safe." 

She  looked  up  wildly.  "Bar  the  door!  Quick!"  she 
cried.     "He  is  coming  to  kill  you!" 

Their  first  impression  that  she  did  not  realize  what  she 
was  saying,  vanished  as  they  listened  to  her  story.  She 
did  not  speak  of  the  blow,  nor  her  refusal  to  hide  away  the 
money,  but  told  them  that  Glendon  had  seen  the  doctor 
talking  with  her,  and  left  the  house  with  the  avowed  inten- 
tion of  killing  him. 

"Thar's  been  plenty  time  for  him  to  get  here  ahead  of 
you,  Mrs.  Glendon,"  Limber  assured  her.  "He'd  a  been 
here  long  before  I  found  you  at  the  forks  of  the  road,  if 
he  was  comin'.  I  guess  he  was  just  bluffin'  you,  and  when 
he  found  it  didn  't  work  he  lit  out  with  the  two  horses. ' ' 

Powell  agreed  heartily  with  Limber,  but  to  calm  her 
fears,  the  cowboy  barred  the  door.  Katherine,  succumb- 
ing to  the  sedative  the  doctor  administered,  relaxed  gradu- 
ally. Her  lids  closed  wearily,  but  her  lips  moved,  and  in 
half-broken  sentences  she  went  over  the  terrible  scene; 
pleading  with  her  husband  for  Powell's  life,  or  talking  to 
the  dead  dog,  begging  it  not  to  let  the  little  scarlet  thread 
reach  her;  then  she  sank  into  silence,  unconscious  of  all 
that  she  had  revealed. 

The  men's  eyes  met.  They  read  each  other's  thoughts. 
Limber's  face  was  set  and  white,  as,  with  a  nod  to  the 
doctor,  he  rose  and  tiptoed  from  the  room  into  the  kitchen 
where  Chappo  wras  sitting  near  the  stove. 

The  cowboy  took  his  pistol  from  the  holster  at  his  hip, 
and  looked  at  the  cylinder.  Twisting  it  between  his  fingers 
he  slipped  the  cartridges  from  it.  They  were  wet  from  the 
rain. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  349 

"Got  some  lard?"  he  asked  Chappo,  and  when  the  Mexi- 
can brought  it,  Limber  greased  the  cartridges  and  put  them 
back  into  the  cylinder,  then  dropped  the  pistol  into  the 
holster  of  his  cartridge  belt.  A  Winchester  rifle  hung  in  a 
leather  scabbard  on  the  kitchen  wall,  and  Limber  lifted 
it  down. 

Chappo  watched  him  examine  the  magazine  of  the  gun. 

"Eet  is  all  right,"  he  said.  "Eef  shoots  good."  The 
Mexican's  eyes  met  Limber's.  "You  go  hunting,  Leember? 
Take  heein." 

"Yes.  Give  me  some  jerky,  Chappo.  I  may  not  get 
any  game  for  a  couple  of  days." 

Chappo  understood,  and  hastened  to  get  the  stiff  strips 
of  sun-dried  meat  which  he  put  in  a  small  cotton  sack 
and  handed  to  the  cowboy,  saying,  "Good  luck,  Leember! 
Shoot  straight!" 

"With  a  grim  smile  the  Mexican  saw  the  cowboy  and  gun 
disappear. 

Peanut  looked  up  in  suprised  reproach  as  his  master 
reached  for  the  saddle  hung  on  a  peg.  The  pony  knew  he 
had  well-earned  his  blanket  and  bin  of  oats  that  night. 

"We've  got  some  more  work  to  do,  Peanut,"  said  Limber, 
throwing  the  saddle  across  the  pony's  back,  and  Peanut, 
with  a  final  bite  at  the  oats,  turned  again  to  face  the  storm 
with  his  master.  The  cowboy  was  sure  that  Glendon  had 
pushed  on  toward  the  border,  and  not  knowing  about  the 
gold  he  was  carrying  with  him,  supposed  he  had  taken  Fox 
as  a  relay  horse.  This  would  give  Glendon  the  advantage 
should  the  chase  be  protracted;  but,  Limber  knew  that 
Peanut's  nervous  energy  and  staying  qualities  in  the 
mountains  made  him  equal  to  any  two  ordinary  horses. 

"We'll  follow  him  till  Hell  freezes  over,  Peanut,  and 
we'll  sure  get  him  in  the  end,"  said  the  cowpuncher  as  he 
rode  into  the  night. 

He  did  not  try  to  justify  himself  by  recalling  that  Glen- 
don was  an  outlaw,  whose  capture  or  death  was  demanded 
by  the  law  of  the  country;  he  did  not  remind  himself  that 


350  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Glendon  had  killed  old  Paddy  and  had  broken  the  m> 
written  law  of  fair  play.  It  was  the  recollection  of  the 
woman  with  the  cut  face  and  finger-marked  throat  that 
sent  Limber  out  into  the  storm.  The  woman  Glendon  had 
tried  to  drag  into  the  mire  of  his  own  infamy  as  a  reward 
for  nine  years  of  loyal  devotion ;  the  woman  whom  Limber 
had  held  in  his  heart;  arid  worshipped  reverently. 

Peanut  slipped  on  the  rain-sodden  earth,  and  Limber, 
leaning  forward  in  his  saddle,  kept  his  Winchester  ready 
as  he  listened  for  the  faintest  indication  of  Glendon 's 
presence.  Limber  did  not  believe  that  Glendon  had  carried 
out  his  assertion  that  he  would  go  to  the  Hot  Springs. 
Otherwise,  he  would  have  been  there  long  before.  It  was 
more  possible  that  he  had  doubled  back  on  his  tracks,  and 
struck  out  through  the  mountains  toward  the  south,  head- 
ing for  the  border,  in  order  to  cover  his  trail  as  much  as 
he  could  by  dawn.  He  would  have  to  keep  well-hidden  in 
the  day  time. 

Suddenly,  from  the  darkness  sounded  the  shrill  neigh  of 
a  horse.  Limber  threw  himself  on  Peanut's  neck  and 
reached  down,  grasping  the  pony's  nose  firmly  to  prevent 
him  from  answering.  Still  keeping  a  grip  on  Peanut's 
nostrils,  the  cowboy  dropped  to  the  ground,  and  stood  back 
of  the  pony's  shoulder,  believing  that  Glendon  had  seen 
him  and  was  creeping  on  him  in  the  dark.  The  flashes  of 
lightning  were  less  frequent.  The  rain  and  wind  raged 
more  furiously. 

Then  from  the  gloom  trotted  a  riderless  pony,  calling 
again  and  again  as  it  approached  them.  A  flash  enabled 
Limber's  keen  eyes  to  recognize  Fox.  With  a  little  nicker 
of  delight,  it  trotted  to  Peanut's  side  and  stood  rubbing 
its  nose  against  the  other  pony's  shoulder.  Limber  saw  a 
weather-beaten  saddle  and  new  saddlebags  on  Fox's  back, 
while  a  broken  halter-rope  dangled  from  the  animal's  neck. 
He  knew  the  horse  had  broken  away  from  Glendon,  and  was 
probably  making  its  way  back  to  the  Circle  Cross,  the  only 
home  it  had  ever  known.     If  so,  Glendon  would  follow  until 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  351 

he  caught  it,  for  he  would  need  the  extra  horse  in  his  long 
flight. 

Limber  hastily  tied  the  broken  halter-rope  to  the  horn 
of  Peanut's  saddle,  and  left  the  two  animals  standing  in  the 
centre  of  the  road  as  a  decoy,  while  he  crawled  to  a  project- 
ing clump  of  brush  and  slowly  wormed  his  way  parallel  to 
the  road.  He  was  following  Apache  tactics,  now.  A  pro- 
longed flash  of  quivering,  dazzling  light,  and  Limber's 
half-blinded  eyes  scanned  the  brush  and  trees.  Then  the 
rifle  leaped  to  his  shoulder  and  his  finger  rested  on  the 
trigger. 

Down  the  road  he  had  seen  Glendon.  At  the  same  time 
he  knew  that  Glendon  had  seen  him.  Back  into  the  brush 
he  slipped  lying  flat  on  his  face  and  writhing  cautiously 
forward.  There  would  be  no  time  for  a  second  shot — 
Glendon  was  waiting,  too.  How  close  was  he,  now?  Inch 
by  inch  Limber  dragged  himself.  Somewhere  in  the  night, 
another  man  was  crawling  toward  him,  gun  in  hand —  The 
man  who  had  left  the  marks  of  his  fingers  on  a  woman's 
throat.  God!  Would  there  be  no  flash  of  lightning  now 
that  he  needed  just  one  more. 

It  came,  as  though  in  answer  to  his  prayer.  Dazzling, 
blinding  and  with  frightful  crash  as  though  the  whole 
world  had  fallen  into  space  and  crushed  another  world  to 
atoms.  A  sharp  tingling  pain  shot  through  Limber's 
muscles,  his  gun  dropped  from  his  hand  and  exploded;  he 
wondered  if  Glendon  had  hit  him,  but  it  was  rain,  not 
blood  that  soaked  his  sleeve. 

He  gripped  his  gun  and  threw  another  cartridge  into 
place.  Once  more  he  began  creeping  and  waiting.  When 
another  flash  came,  the  cowboy  lowered  his  gun,  and  rose 
to  his  feet.  At  the  side  of  the  road  ahead  of  him  was  an 
uprooted  cottonwood  tree.     Under  it  lay  a  horse  and  a  man. 

Uncertain  whether  the  man  was  dead  or  merely  stunned, 
Limber  crouched  warily  in  the  brush,  waiting  a  tell-tale 
movement.     But  the  horse  and  man  did  not  stir. 

Then  the  cowboy  approached  and  looked  down  in  the 


352  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

fitful  glare  of  the  flashes,  and  saw  an  immovable  figure — 
face  distorted  with  agony — open  eves  staring  unseeing 
into  the  storm — clothes  across  a  charred  breast — an  odour 
of  burnt  flesh  and  singed  hair — the  body  of  a  dead  horse. 

Limber  gazed  down  at  the  man,  his  mind  filled  with  con- 
flicting emotions.  He  had  intended  killing  Glendon  as  he 
would  have  killed  a  mad  coyote  or  a  rattlesnake,  and  he 
would  have  felt  no  regret;  but,  now — 

He  raised  the  dripping  hat  from  his  head.  Not  because 
of  the  broken  thing  that  lay  at  his  feet,  but  in  recognition 
of  something  higher  and  more  incomprehensible  which  rules 
the  Universe — with  its  three  unfathomable  mysteries,  Life, 
Death  and  Eternity. 

Replacing  his  hat,  Limber  made  his  way  back  to  the 
horses  and  slipped  the  Winchester  into  the  scabbard  which 
hung  from  Peanut's  saddle. 

"It's  worked  out  all  right,  Peanut,"  said  the  cowboy 
as  he  mounted  the  pony  and  faced  the  Hot  Springs  ranch. 
"I'm  glad  I  didn't  have  to  kill  him.  Just  the  same  I'd 
a  done  it  ruther  than  let  him  drag  her  through  Hell  another 
hour.     He  can't  bother  her  no  more,  now." 

He  stabled  Fox  and  Peanut,  then  went  to  the  kitchen 
where  Chappo,  like  a  faithful  old  watchdog,  was  dozing 
beside  the  stove.  He  started  to  his  feet  as  Limber  entered, 
but  asked  no  questions  when  the  cowboy,  without  a  word, 
hung  the  Winchester  on  the  pegs  where  he  had  found  it. 

Powell,  sitting  by  the  couch  in  the  front  room,  heard 
Limber's  steps.  With  a  glance  at  the  sleeping  woman,  he 
rose  softly  and  went  to  the  door  that  led  into  the  kitchen. 
He  closed  the  door  and  his  eyes  met  Limber's. 

"He's  dead,"  said  the  cowboy.  Then,  reading  the  un- 
spoken question  in  the  doctor's  eyes,  he  added,  "No.  It 
was  the  lightning  done  it.  A  tree  fell  on  him  and  his 
horse. 

"Thank  God!"  said  Powell,  but  his  tone  was  reverent, 
not  jubilant. 

"Is  she  all  right?"  asked  Limber  anxiously. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  353 

"Besting  quietly.  We'll  take  her  over  to  Mrs.  Traynor 
in  the  morning,  Limber.     She  needs  a  woman  friend,  now." 

"The  Little  Lady  will  look  out  for  her,"  said  the  cow- 
boy. Then  he  glanced  at  Chappo,  and  after  a  slight  hesi- 
tation continued,  "I  wish  you'd  come  out  and  take  a  look 
at  Peanut's  ankle,  Doc." 

Powell,  catching  the  peculiar  tone,  nodded  and  followed 
to  the  barn  where  the  ponies  stood  contentedly  in  their 
stalls.  Limber  closed  the  stable  door  and  spoke  in  a  low 
voice. 

"Glendon  was  ridin'  the  horse  and  saddle  he  stole  in 
Tombstone.  It's  a  Lazy  F  pony.  The  lead-rope  on  Fox 
was  busted." 

"All  right.  I'll  notify  the  Lazy  F  people,"  Powell 
replied  wondering  why  Limber  thought  secrecy  necessary. 

"That  ain't  what's  troublin'  me.  You  see  when  Glen 
was  arrested  he  rid  his  own  saddle  to  town  with  the  posse. 
I  was  with  'em,  and  I  knowed  his  saddle.  Besides,  I 
bought  it  from  Juan  afterwards,  when  they  was  hard  up 
for  dinero.  Mrs.  Glendon  didn't  know  I  bought  it.  That 
saddle's  over  to  the  Diamond  II  and  been  thar  for  two 
months." 

He  walked  to  the  corner  of  the  barn  and  pointed  at  the 
saddle  he  had  taken  from  Fox. 

"That's  the  saddle  that  was  on  Fox,"  he  said  slowly. 
"It  belonged  to  old  Doctor  King — we  all  thought  the 
Apaches  got  it." 

Powell  grasped  Limber's  arm.  "You  don't  think  Glen- 
don killed  King,  do  you?" 

"Thar  ain't  no  way  I  can  see  to  think  he  didn't,"  re- 
sponded the  cowpuncher.  "From  all  we  could  find  out, 
King  and  Glendon  rid  to  the  forks  together  and  separated. 
King  was  goin'  down  the  San  Pedro  and  Glendon  to  Jack- 
son's Flats.  You  can  see  how  easy  Glendon  could  of  shot 
from  the  upper  trail.  The  bullet  went  into  King's  head 
above  the  left  temple  and  came  out  behind  the  right  ear. 
You  seen  that  yourself.     I  thought  it  was  kinder  queer 


354  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

when  I  heard  Mrs.  Glendon  say  the  Apaches  didn't  reach 
the  Circle  Cross  till  noon  and  you  said  King  had  been 
dead  over  night.  But  then  I  figgered  the  Indians  was 
snoopin'  round  that  part  for  a  couple  of  days." 

"What  object  would  Glendon  have  had?" 

"He'd  pick  a  fight  with  any  one  when  he  was  tanked  up 
a  bit.  You  know  he  always  wanted  the  Hot  Springs,  and 
King  wouldn't  sell  it  to  him.  He  didn't  know  the  land 
was  patented,  and  mebbe  he  figgered  that  if  King  was  dead 
it  would  be  easy  to  jump  the  Springs.  Of  course,  he  didn't 
know  about  King  makin'  any  Will,  nor  that  you  and  the 
Boss  was  workin'  up  a  deal  with  King.  That's  why  Glen- 
don's  had  it  in  for  the  Diamond  H  and  for  you  ever  since." 

The  chain  of  circumstantial  evidence  seemed  conclusive 
as  forgotten  details  were  recalled. 

"Thar's  a  heap  of  gold  coins  in  the  saddle  bags  that  was 
on  Fox,"  Limber  went  on  .  "Looks  like  it  was  Paddy's 
money  that  every  one  was  hunting  for.  We  all  knowed  that 
he  had  thirty-five  thousand  dollars  in  gold  buried  some 
place  around.  Thar  was  twenty-five  thousand  in  that 
flower-box  he  guv  to  Jamie  and  the  Little  Lady;  and  this 
makes  ten  more.     Padcty  scattered  it  around." 

"I  wonder  how  Glendon  happened  to  locate  it?"  mused 
the  doctor. 

Limber  whirled  about.  "He  located  that  money  before 
he  killed  old  Paddy!  That's  why  he  done  it,  and  Alpaugh 
stood  in  with  him !  Glendon  was  too  much  of  a  coward  to 
do  anythin'  exceptin'  shoot  old  men  and  bully  his  wife. 
He  was  too  rotten  to  live  and  too  damn  rotten  to  die !  But, 
now  what  I  want  to  know,  Doc,  is  what  are  we  goin'  to 
do  about  that  saddle  and  money?  The  posse  will  be  here 
soon  as  the  creek  falls." 

"Suppose  I  take  charge  of  it  and  consult  an  attorney," 
suggested  Powell  after  a  few  minutes'  thought.  "We  have 
no  absolute  proof  that  it  belonged  to  Paddy.  As  he  had  no 
heirs  I  am  rather  at  sea  about  the  proper  procedure." 

"All  right.     I'm  goin'  to  take  that  saddle  of  King's 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  355 

and  bury  it, ' '  asserted  Limber.  ' '  Thar  am 't  no  use  sboutin ' 
about  it  now.  Glen's  dead  and  'twon't  do  King  no  good, 
and  Mrs.  Glendon's  got  enough  trouble  to  pack  without 
havin,  this  extra  bunch. " 

Powell  returned  to  the  house  and  told  Chappo  to  go 
to  bed.  Out  where  the  brush  grew  most  thickly,  Limber 
dug  a  deep  hole  like  a  small  grave,  and  Doctor  King's 
saddle  was  covered,  while  the  steadily  pouring  rain  obliter- 
ated all  tell-tale  marks  of  disturbed  earth. 

As  the  hours  passed,  the  thunder  grew  faint  and  fainter ; 
the  lightning  ceased;  the  rain  fell  in  a  soft  patter,  like 
children's  voices  whispering  in  the  night.  A  dim,  grey 
light  mingled  with  the  darkness  of  the  sky,  sleepy  chirps 
and  twitters  sounded  from  rain-soaked  nests,  the  pink 
fingers  of  Morning  reached  out  and  caressed  the  tips  of  the 
mountains. 

Down  the  canon  near  the  crossing  a  man  stood  waiting 
to  guard  the  woman  he  loved  from  knowledge  of  what  had 
happened  in  the  night.  The  rushing  torrent  was  fast  sub- 
siding. 

He  lifted  his  head  at  the  sound  of  galloping  hoofs  and 
men's  voices,  then  he  turned  and  looked  down  at  the  posse 
from  Willcox.  They  reached  the  opposite  bank  of  the 
stream  and  let  the  reins  fall  loosely  on  their  ponies'  necks 
as  they  recognized  Limber. 

"Hello,  Limber!  You  was  lucky  to  get  here  last  night," 
called  the  leader.  "We  all  were  stuck  at  the  mouth  of  the 
canon  till  this  morning.     Seen  any  signs  of  Glendon?" 

Limber  was  among  them  now.  "Yep.  He's  on  the  road 
between  here  and  the  Circle  Cross,"  was  the  answer. 

"All  right.  Much  obliged.  Hurry  up  boys;"  but 
Limber's  upheld  hand  made  them  pause. 

"You  all  don't  need  to  hurry.  Glen's  dead.  Lightnin' 
hit  him  and  his  horse.  Mrs.  Glendon's  up  here.  She's 
sick  and  don't  know  nothin'  about  it  yet.  Doctor  Powell 
is  goin'  to  take  her  over  to  the  Diamond  H  Ranch  this 
mornin'  to  Mrs.  Traynor." 


356  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

"Gosh!     It's  sure  tough  on  her  anyway  you  put  it." 

"Is  there  anything  we  can  do  for  her?"  asked  the  leader 
of  the  posse. 

' '  Jest  don 't  let  her  know  you  're  here,  and  try  to  manage 
so's  to  get  Glendon  away  without  her  seein'  him.  That's 
all." 

"We'll  sure  do  that,  Limber.  She's  a  fine  woman  and 
we're  glad  to  do  anything  we  can  for  her.  Glendon  was  no 
good  to  any  one.     Not  even  to  himself." 

"Juan  is  away  with  the  Circle  Cross  team,  but  I'll  send 
Chappo  down  with  the  wagon,"  were  Limber's  last  words 
as  the  posse  rode  slowly  down  the  canon. 


CHAPTER  FORTY-TWO 

A  YEAR  and  a  half  passed  by.  Katherine  sitting  in 
her  room  at  the  Diamond  H  Ranch,  was  thinking 
of  the  many  changes  that  had  come  into  her  life. 
Doctor  Powell  and  Limber  had  brought  her  to  Mrs. 
Traynor,  and  for  long  weeks  afterward  they  had  battled 
untiringly  to  save  the  life  that  threatened  to  slip  away. 
With  tender,  encouraging  words  they  fought  the  reaction 
of  despair;  but  it  was  Nell  who  suggested  sending  for 
Donnie;  Nell,  who  laid  her  baby  boy  in  Katherine 's  arms; 
Nell,  whose  constant  watchfulness  and  loving  little  caresses, 
finally  brought  answering  smiles  to  Katherine 's  pale  lips. 

Donnie  and  Jamie  at  once  struck  up  a  friendship  akin  to 
David  and  Jonathan,  and  when  the  two  lads  would  wake 
the  ranch  with  their  happy  laughter — it  was  tonic  to 
Katherine 's  bruised  and  aching  heart. 

For  a  long  time  she  had  believed  that  Glendon  had 
escaped  to  Mexico;  but  at  last  Nell  told  her  the  truth. 
Donnie  knew  only  that  his  father  had  been  killed  by  light- 
ning in  a  storm.  Over  at  the  Hot  Springs,  work  was  being 
pushed  rapidly  on  the  Sanitarium,  and  Limber  and  Powell 
divided  their  time  between  the  two  places. 

There  had  been  a  "surprise  party'7  as  Bronco  called  it, 
when  a  couple  of  weeks  previously,  Traynor  and  Powell  had 
called  the  four  cowboys  into  the  office,  and  handed  each  one 
an  official  envelope  addressed  by  name.  Upon  opening  it, 
they  discovered  that  the  Hot  Springs,  P  L,  Diamond  H  and 
Circle  Cross  ranches  had  been  incorporated  into  the 
"Galiuro  Cattle  Corporation,"  Traynor  as  president; 
Powell,    secretary    and    treasurer;    and    Limber,    general 

357 


358  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

manager.  Bronco,  Roarer  and  Holy  were  astounded  to  re- 
ceive stock  to  the  value  of  five  thousand  dollars;  but 
Limber's  envelope  held,  not  only  the  five  thousand  dollars 
worth  of  stock,  like  the  other  boys;  but  also  his  note  which 
he  had  given  Traynor  in  return  for  the  half  interest  in  the 
PL  herd.  Limber  looked  at  it  puzzled,  then  he  saw  across 
the  face  of  the  note,  the  endorsement,  "Paid  in  full  with 
compound  interest  in  loyalty  and  devotion."  Beneath 
these  words  were  the  signatures  of  Allan  Traynor,  Nell 
Traynor  and  Cuthbert  Powell. 

The  cowpuncher  tried  to  speak,  but  was  unable  to  utter 
a  word.     In  silence  he  gripped  Traynor 's  hand. 

That  was  an  uproarious  evening  on  the  Diamond  H.  The 
boys  and  old  Fong  surrounded  the  foreman  in  the  bunk- 
house  after  dinner.  Fong,  once  again,  had  fashioned  a 
huge  cake.  When  it  was  set  down  on  the  wooden  table, 
the  Chinaman  lifted  the  tissue  paper  that  veiled  it,  and 
the  boys  let  out  a  wild  whoop.  A  five-strand  fence  bounded 
the  edge  of  the  cake;  a  small  white  cabin  loomed  in  the 
centre,  with  a  desperate  attempt  at  a  cow  in  icing  beside  it. 
A  naturalist  might  have  scorned  the  cow,  but  there  was  no 
mistaking  the  Diamond  H  brand  in  red  icing  that  was  the 
finishing  touch  on  the  animal's  hip. 

The  boys  clapped  Fong  on  the  back  till  his  pigtail 
squirmed  like  an  eel,  and  his  grin  threatened  to  split  the 
lower  part  of  his  face. 

Traynor  standing  outside  watched  the  proceeding,  then 
went  over  to  tell  Nell  and  Katherine. 

"Poor  Limber  had  to  make  a  speech,"  he  chuckled. 
"Fong  joined  with  the  rest,  and  they  kept  at  him  till  he 
had  to  say  something  to  get  peace.  Say,  Nell,  I  wish  you 
could  have  seen  him!  He  stood  up,  looked  at  them,  got 
red  in  the  face,  opened  his  mouth,  shut  it,  then  burst  out, 
"You're  the  orneriest  bunch  of  boys  in  Arizona  Terri- 
tory, and  if  you  don't  quit  pesterin'  me,  I'm  goin'  to  fire 
the  whole  outfit  the  very  first  thing  I  do!" 

"Poor  Limber!"  laughed  Nell,  but  the  laugh  was  very 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  359 

tender.  "They  do  worry  him;  but  he  knows  they  would 
give  their  lives  for  him ! ' ' 

Like  a  panorama,  these  memories  flitted  swiftly  before 
the  eyes  of  Katherine  Glendon,  obliterating  the  darker  days 
of  her  life.  There  was  no  bitterness  now.  Like  the  terrible 
storm  of  the  canon,  they  had  passed  away  forever,  and 
over  the  broken  places  bloomed  beautiful  flowers ;  a  message 
of  forgiveness. 

The  bit  of  lace  she  was  sewing  on  a  dress  for  Nell's  baby, 
slipped  from  her  hands,  and  her  eyes  wandered  through  the 
open  door  to  the  snow-cap  of  Mt.  Graham  across  the  Valley. 

At  first,  Powell  had  hesitated  to  allow  her  return  to  the 
Hot  Springs  to  live,  dreading  the  effect  of  those  terrible 
memories  upon  their  happiness.  When  he  told  her  of  this, 
and  that  he  would  find  a  partner  to  live  at  the  place,  she 
had  convinced  him  that  her  happiness  lay  helping  him 
with  his  work  at  the  Springs ;  so  it  had  been  decided.  Now, 
that  the  project  was  nearing  completion,  Powell  received 
offers  from  many  sources,  so  that  he  might  carry  out  the 
plans  on  the  most  extensive  scale.  The  money  found  in 
the  saddle-bags  the  night  Glendon  died,  had  been  also  added 
to  the  funds,  after  communication  and  consultation  with 
proper  legal  authority.  This  provided  for  the  maintenance 
of  additional  children. 

All  the  plans  had  been  discussed  between  Powell, 
Traynor,  Nell  and  Katherine,  and  the  two  women  had 
made  many  suggestions  the  men  overlooked.  There  were 
even  toys,  games,  books  with  wonderful  fairy  tales,  already 
unpacked  at  the  Springs. 

Two  weeks  had  been  passed  there  happily,  arranging, 
sorting  and  working  together.  Donnie  and  Jamie,  with 
their  ponies  and  Juan  and  Chappo  as  guides,  had  explored 
trails  and  planned  many  future  adventures.  The  two  old 
Mexicans  were  as  happy  as  children,  and  at  night,  when 
they  related  tales  of  Mexico,  or  Chappo  told  of  his  cap- 
tivity among  the  Apaches,  the  boys  felt  that  life  could  hold 
no  more  fascinating  experiences. 


360  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Katherine's  thoughts  were  interrupted  by  the  sound  of 
steps.  She  rose  quickly  and  turned  to  the  open  door.  A 
pink  Rambler  rose  in  full  bloom  twined  above  the  porch, 
and  a  puff  of  wind  caught  the  blossoms  and  showered  the 
fragrant  petals  over  her  as  she  held  out  her  hands  to  wel- 
come the  man  she  loved.  He  looked  at  her  with  happy 
eyes  and  saw — no  longer  a  vague  dream — a  living,  glorious 
reality,  smiling  with  no  shadow  on  her  beautiful  face,  his 
Lady  of  the  Pool. 

The  rose  leaves  fell  softly,  about  them.  "See,  dearest," 
he  said,  "it  is  a  symbol  of  our  future.  The  roses  are  shed- 
ding their  petals  on  your  path,  so  that  not  even  the  tiniest 
pebble  shall  bruise  your  feet!" 

She  smiled  at  him,  her  eyes  misty  with  happiness,  then 
together  they  entered  the  room,  to  discuss  their  plans. 

"I've  got  to  have  a  talk  with  Donnie  today,"  said  Powell. 
"I  hope  he  will  understand." 

They  heard  the  noise  of  ponies  dashing  into  the  stable, 
the  laughter  of  happy  voices.  Like  a  small  cyclone, 
Donnie  rushed  into  the  room  and  faced  Powell  in  boyish 
delight. 

"Is  the  Sanitarium  almost  done?"  he  asked  breath- 
lessly. 

"Finished,  at  last!"  Powell's  arm  was  across  the  lad's 
shoulder.  He  smiled  into  '  the  glowing,  upturned  face, 
thankful  that  it  bore  no  resemblance  to  Glendon.  Donnie 
was  bis  mother  in  every  feature.  "The  first  children  will 
be  here  next  month ! ' ' 

"I  bet  they'll  get  good  and  well  after  we  have  them 
awhile,"  prophesied  Donnie.  "You  know,  you  promised 
I  could  be  your  partner." 

"Yes,  old  man!  I  want  you  to  study  so  that  when  you 
grow  up  you  can  work  with  me.  I'm  going  to  take  you 
over  to  the  Springs  so  you  can  start  your  studies  very  soon. 
How  will  that  suit  you  ? ' ' 

The  boy's  face  clouded.  He  glanced  from  Powell  to 
his  mother. 


THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL  361 

"I  can't  leave  Marmee  alone.  I'm  her  Knight,  and  the 
only  one  she 's  got  to  look  out  for  her,  now. ' ' 

"How  abont  taking  her  over  with  us?"  suggested  Powell. 

"Oh,  will  you?"  Donnie's  face  glowed  with  delight. 
"Marmee,  you  will  go,  won't  you?" 

The  doctor  laid  his  hands  on  the  boy's  shoulders  and 
looked  at  him  seriously.  "Donnie,  would  you  let  me  be 
your  father,  so  that  I  can  take  care  of  your  mother  and  you, 
and  we  all  be  partners  as  long  as  we  live  ? ' ' 

The  child's  startled  eyes  wandered  from  the  man  to  the 
woman.  For  a  brief  space  he  made  no  reply.  Then  fling- 
ing his  arms  about  his  mother's  neck,  he  clung  to  her  in  the 
first  pang  of  renunciation.  The  eyes  that  looked  at  him 
were  very  tender. 

With  a  strange  little  dignity,  he  drew  himself  up  and 
held  out  his  hand  to  the  doctor,  saying,  "I'm  awful  glad 
she  likes  you."  The  voice  trembled,  the  lips  were  un- 
certain, a  lump  hurt  in  his  throat.  Donnie  was  afraid  that 
he  was  going  to  cry.  He  was  too  hip:  to  cry  now — his 
shoulders  squared.  Quickly,  he  turned  and  left  the  room. 
The  man  and  woman  watched  the  pathetic  little  figure, 
with  drooping  head,  pass  the  window. 

"He  will  understand  soon  that  I  am  not  going  to  take  you 
away  from  him,"  Powell's  voice  was  gentle,  "but  I  know 
how  it  hurts  at  first. 

Drawing  some  letters  from  his  pocket,  he  seated  himself 
beside  Katherine  on  the  couch.  "These  are  from  the 
children  and  the  matron  who  will  travel  with  them  and 
help  care  for  them  at  the  Springs,"  he  explained. 

Together  they  read  misspelled  words  scrawled  in  crude 
characters.  One  child  wanted  to  know  if  he  could  have  a 
real,  live  chicken;  another  asked  nothing  but  a  chance  to 
see  trees  and  places  where  'the  cops  don't  make  you  keep 
off;'  a  third  begged  permission  to  bring  his  cat,  Nigger, 
"becoz  Nigger  ain't  got  no  one  to  luv  him  but  me — becoz  he 
has  got  a  crooked  tail  and  one  eye's  gone,  but  I  luv  him  and 
he  luvs  me  and  he'll  be  lonesome  after  I  go  way." 


362  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

Katherine  remembered  the  dog  that  had  been  her  sole 
companion  so  many  hours — the  dog  that  Limber  had  buried 
in  a  little  grave  at  the  Circle  Cross. 

"Of  course,  Nigger  is  coming?"  she  laughed  with  a  catch 
in  her  voice. 

"A  special  invitation  has  already  gone  for  him,  and  the 
matron  is  authorized  to  buy  a  basket  for  Nigger's  comfort ;" 
was  the  answer. 

Katherine  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  Powell  leaned 
toward  her.  His  hand  lifted  her  face  gently,  "Sweetheart, 
what  are  your  thoughts?" 

Her  eyes  were  dim  and  her  voice  trembled,  "  'And  a 
Knight  shall  come  that  shall  have  a  head  of  gold,  the  look 
of  a  lion,  a  heart  of  steel,  conditions  without  weakness,  the 
valour  of  a  man,  and  faith  and  belief  in  God.  And  he 
shall  be  the  best  Knight  in  the  world.'  " 

Powell's  arms  slipped  about  her  and  he  drew  her  close. 
"May  I  prove  worthy  to  be  your  Knight  for  all  the  days 
of  my  life,  dear  Lady  of  the  Pool!" 


CHAPTER  FORTY-THREE 

ONLY  the  Galiuros  knew  that  a  pinto  pony  had 
trodden  unbroken  trails  through  the  night,  until  it 
reached  a  spot  where  the  tangled  growth  of  brush 
thinned  and  ended  on  a  high  ledge  overlooking  the  undu- 
lating flat  of  the  Sulphur  Springs  range. 

The  mysterious  beauty  of  coming  dawn  merged  with 
dying  starlight,  where  faint  shadows  outlined  the  rugged 
peaks  of  the  Grahams  across  the  broad  Valley.  Above  them 
all  Mt.  Graham  lifted  its  glorious,  snow-capped  head.  Un- 
conquered,  unscathed  by  the  storms  of  centuries  past,  it 
gazed  steadfastly  at  the  sky  above  it,  while  the  world  slept 
at  its  feet. 

Limber  sat  on  the  back  of  the  pinto  pony.  His  grey 
eyes  shone  with  a  wonderful  light,  for  the  strength  of  his 
loved  mountains  had  crept  into  his  heart  during  the  long 
hours  of  his  silent  battle.  Out  of  the  storm  and  turmoil, 
the  trail  had  led  to  peace. 

A  faint  rustling  sounded  sibilantly.  It  was  a  vagrant, 
gossiping  breeze  telling  the  leaves  and  grasses  that  a  new 
day  had  been  born. 

Yesterday,  with  its  joys  and  sorrows,  its  ambitions  and 
disappointments,  was  dead.  Its  ghost  floated  into  the  clear 
blue  sky  that  smiled  down  between  the  drifting  clouds. 

Today  came  laughing  over  the  mountains.  Her  gold- 
shod  feet  twinkled  as  she  ran.  The  sunbeam  in  her  hand 
gleamed  like  a  magic  wand,  transmuting  each  thing  to 
dazzling  beauty.  It  reached  a  little  pinto  pony  standing 
on  an  overhanging  ledge.  Like  the  flash  of  a  golden  lance, 
the  sunbeam  rested  on  the  shoulder  of  the  man,  who  craved 

363 


364  THE  LONG  DIM  TRAIL 

no  greater  privilege  than  to  give  all,  and  ask  nothing  in 
return. 

His  head  was  bare.  The  sunlight  touched  his  upturned 
face  and  the  tender  smile  on  his  lips. 

"God  bless  her,  and  make  her  happy,"  he  whispered 
softly. 


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Beloved  Traitor,  The.     By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Beltane  the  Smith.     By  Jeffery  Farnol. 

Betrayal,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Beyond  the  Frontier.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Big  Timber.     By  Bertrand  W.  Sinclair. 

Black  Is  White.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Blind   Man's   Eyes,   The.      By   Wm.    MacHarg   and    Edwin 

Balmer. 
Bob,  Son  of  Battle.     By  Alfred  Ollivant. 
Boston  Blackie.    By  Jack  Boyle. 
Boy  with  Wings,  The.    By  Berta  Ruck. 
Brandon  of  the  Engineers.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 
Broad  Highway,  The.    By  Jeffery  Farnol. 
Brown  Study,  The.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 
Bruce  of  the  Circle  A.    By  Harold  Titus. 
Buck  Peters,  Ranchman.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 
Business  of  Life,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers- 


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Cabbages  and  Kings.     By  O.  Henry. 

Cabin  Fever.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Calling  of  Dan  Matthews,  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Cape  Cod  Stories.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Abe,  Storekeeper.    By  James  A.  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Dan's  Daughter.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Eri.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Cap'n  Jonah's  Fortune.    By  James  A.  Cooper. 

Cap'n  Warren's  Wards.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Chain  of  Evidence,  A.     By  Carolyn  Wells. 

Chief  Legatee,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Cinderella  Jane.    By  Marjorie  B.  Cooke. 

Cinema  Murder,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

City  of  Masks,  The.     By  George  Barr  McCutcheon. 

Cleek  of  Scotland  Yard.     By  T.  W.  Hanshew. 

Cleek,  The  Man  of  Forty  Faces,     By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew 

Cleek's  Government  Cases.    By  Thomas  W.  Hanshew. 

Clipped  Wings.     By  Rupert  Hughes. 

Clue,  The.     By  Carolyn  Wells. 

Clutch  of  Circumstance,  The.     By  Marjorie  Benton  Cooke. 

Coast  of  Adventure,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Coming  of  Cassidy,  The.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Coming  of  the  Law,  The.     By  Chas.  A.  Seltzer. 

Conquest  of  Canaan,  The.     By  Booth  Tarkington. 

Conspirators,  The.    By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Court  of  Inquiry,  A.    By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Cow  Puncher,  The.     By  Robert  J.  C.  Stead. 

Crimson  Gardenia,  The,  and  Other  Tales  of  Adventure.     By 

Rex  Beach. 
Cross  Currents.    By  Author  of  "Pollyanna." 
Cry  in  the  Wilderness,  A.    By  Mary  E.  Waller. 

Danger,  And  Other  Stories.     By  A.  Conan  Doyle. 
Dark  Hollow,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 
Dark  Star,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Daughter  Pays,  The.     By  Mrs.  Baillie  Reynolds. 
Day  of  Days,  The.    Bv  Louis  Joseph  Vance. 
Depot  Master,  The.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 
Desired  Woman,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 


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Destroying  Angel,  The.    By  Louis  Jos.  Vance. 

Devil's  Own,  The.     By  Randall  Parrish. 

Double  Traitor,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Empty  Pockets.     By  Rupert  Hughes. 

Eyes  of  the  Blind,  The.     By  Arthur  Somers  Roche. 

Eye  of  Dread,  The.     By  Payne  Erskine. 

Eyes  of  the  World,  The.     By  Harold  Bell  Wright. 

Extricating  Obadiah.     By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln. 

Felix  O'Day.     By  F.  Hopkinson  Smith. 
54-40  or  Fight.     By  Emerson  Hough. 
Fighting  Chance,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 
Fighting  Shepherdess,  The.     By  Caroline  Lockhart. 
Financier,  The.     By  Theodore  Dreiser. 
Flame,  The.     By  Olive  Wadsley. 
Flamsted  Quarries.     By  Mary  E.  Wallar. 
Forfeit,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 
Four  Million,  The.    By  O.  Henry. 
Fruitful  Vine,  The.     By  Robert  Hichens. 
Further   Adventures   of   Jimmie   Dale,   The.     By   Frank    L 
Packard. 

Girl  of  the  Blue  Ridge,  A.    By  Payne  Erskine. 

Girl  from  Keller's,  The.     By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Girl  Philippa,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Girls  at  His  Billet,  The.     By  Berta  Ruck. 

God's  Country  and  the  Woman.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood 

Going  Some.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Golden  Slipper,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Golden  Woman,  The.     By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Greater  Love  Hath  No  Man.    By  Frank  L.  Packard. 

Greyfriars  Bobby.    By  Eleanor  Atkinson. 

Gun  Brand,  The.     By  James  B.  Hendryx. 

Halcyone.    By  Elinor  Glyn. 

Hand  of  Fu-Manchu,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer 

Havoc.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Heart  of  the  Desert,  The.    By  Honore  Willste 

Heart  of  the  Hills,  The.    By  John  Fox,  Jr. 


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Heart  of  the  Sunset.    By  Rex  Beach. 

Heart  of  Thunder  Mountain,  The.     By  Edfrid  A.  Bingham. 

Her  Weight  in  Gold.     By  Geo.  B.  McCutcheon. 

Hidden  Children,  The.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Hidden  Spring,  The.     By  Clarence  B.  Kelland. 

Hillman,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Hills  of  Refuge,  The.     By  Will  N.  Harben. 

His  Official  Fiancee.     By  Berta  Ruck. 

Honor  of  the  Big  Snows.    By  James  Oliver  Curwood. 

Hopalong  Cassidy.     By  Clarence  E.  Mulford. 

Hound  from  the  North,  The.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

House  of  the  Whispering  Pines,  The.     By  Anna  Katharine 

Green. 
Hugh  Wynne,  Free  Quaker.    By  S.  Weir  Mitchell,  M.D. 

I  Conquered.    By  Harold  Titus. 

Illustrious  Prince,  The.     By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

In  Another  Girl's  Shoes.    By  Berta  Ruck. 

Indifference  of  Juliet,  The.     By  Grace  S.  Richmond. 

Infelice.     By  Augusta  Evans  Wilson. 

Initials  Only.     By  Anna  Katharine  Green. 

Inner  Law,  The.    By  Will  N.  Harben. 

Innocent.     By  Marie  Corelli. 

Insidious  Dr.  Fu-Manchu,  The.    By  Sax  Rohmer. 

In  the  Brooding  Wild.    By  Ridgwell  Cullum. 

Intriguers,  The.    By  Harold  Bindloss. 

Iron  Trail,  The.     By  Rex  Beach. 

Iron  Woman,  The.     By  Margaret  Deland. 

I  Spy.     By  Natalie  Sumner  Lincoln. 

Japonette.     By  Robert  W.  Chambers. 

Jean  of  the  Lazy   A.    By  B.  M.  Bower. 

Jeanne  of  the  Marshes.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 

Jennie  Gerhardt.     By  Theodore  Dreiser. 

Judgment  House,  The.     By  Gilbert  Parker. 

Keener  of  the  Door,  The.    By  Ethel  M.  Dell. 

Keith  of  the  Border.    By  Randall  Parrish.  # 

Kent  Knowles:  Ouahaugr.    By  Joseph  C.  Lincoln.        § 

Kingdom  of  the  Blind.  The.    By  E.  Phillips  Oppenheim. 


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